Crimson Emeralds
by The Velvet Ghost
Summary: Every question has an answer, and Harry is about to uncover some answers that he never asked for. As old memories are stirred, he will be forced to take a step back and consider the very meaning of loyalty and trust. Spoilers for HBP, now complete.
1. The Bronze Ivy Hotel

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**Crimson Emeralds**  
**_by The Velvet Ghost_**

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Chapter One - The Bronze Ivy Hotel

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As far as the receptionist at the Bronze Ivy Hotel was concerned, the two people who checked in one late evening in July were nothing more than father and son, here for a few days of sightseeing. There was nothing about them to suggest anything otherwise. As the pale, dark-haired gentleman calmly organised payment, his teenage son browsed through the tourism leaflets and examined his reflection in the thick bronze pillars at the front desk, messing around with locks of shiny black hair, a frown on his pointed face.

They needed a room for a week, in the name of Sebastian Prince and seventeen-year-old son Dravian, which was naturally provided for them. Dinner would be served in the restaurant at seven, they were told, and would they like to purchase a guidebook? Mr Prince gratefully refused - he knew his way around London very well, he said. As they headed towards the staircase and its red velvet runner, the receptionist caught the dark look in the boy's eyes, but he said nothing to her, and so she said nothing to him.

It was about half an hour later that the phone next to reception rang. She answered in a practiced voice, smiling as she did it - her manager said customers could 'hear' the smile.

"Hello, front desk? How may I help you?"

A boy's voice spoke. "Yes, this is... ah, hang on." There was a clunk and silence, as a palm was clasped over the receiver and an unheard conversation took place. After a moment, the boy returned. "Yes, this is Dravian Prince in Room 147. My father and I checked in recently. Would it be possible to have some room service?"

"Of course, Master Prince, what would you like?" She took out a notepad, slid the pen from behind her ear and listened. There was some scuffling going on. Whatever the boy was ordering, it was being dictated by a voice she recognised as belonging to Mr Prince.

"Yes, some assorted sandwiches... nothing with mayonnaise in, please. What, Sev- Father? Oh yes, nothing with lettuce in. We would also like a bottle of... oh, hang on." There was a crackle. Trying to stay smiling, the receptionist heard Dravian Prince distinctly say, "Oh, you order it, you know how to deal with muggles."

Trying to work out if 'muggle' was some new slang term or not, she waited patiently as the boy's father came on the line.

"Do excuse my son," he said sleekly. "I'm afraid he's endured something of a long journey, and his manners are never quite up to scratch when we travel. I'd like a bottle of the 1986 Clerc-Milon, if at all possible, and a small bunch of grapes. In fact, two bunches."

"Certainly Sir," she chimed, still smiling. "It will be up as soon as possible. Is the room to your satisfa-"

Before she had finished speaking, the phone was put down and the dialling tone filled her ear. A little hurt, she replaced the receiver, and up in Room 147 Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Was it me, or did you just hang up on that muggle woman?" he inquired, looking up from the book open in his lap.

Snape did not bother to answer. He moved across the room to the window, and trailed his fingers quietly through the net curtains, peering down onto the busy muggle street below. From the glass, the vague impression of a pale wizard with dark eyes and short black hair glowered back at him. He would never get used to seeing his hair like this. Its comfortable weight was gone from his shoulders, having been roughly hacked off by Draco that morning with a very jagged slicing charm.

It was all a necessary part of the plan. The truth about Albus Dumbledore's death had yet to circulate among the masses, but the Order were most definitely active, and they were searching for Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. False identities were easy to choose. To fit in with their new role as father and son, Draco had agreed to a permanent hair-colouring solution, and was no longer the blonde teenager that the wizarding world was searching so desperately for. While Snape missed the security of longer hair, he knew that a lifetime in Azkaban was not worth the risk.

"Do you think the muggle woman downstairs suspects anything?" said Draco from behind him. "She was giving me a rather suspicious look when we checked in."

"She has the right to suspect whatever she wants," said Snape. He let the net curtains fall into place and turned away from the window. "Provided she does not share her suspicions, we have nothing to worry about."

Draco nodded vaguely. He turned the page in his book, a very well-worn encyclopedia of dangerous magical creatures, and sighed agitatedly. Snape could sympathise with such a feeling. For several weeks now, ever since fleeing the grounds of Hogwarts, he had been restless inside. The world had been jerked out from beneath their feet, replaced with somewhere hostile and alien.

"Severus?"

Snape was brought out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Draco's grey eyes watching him closely, and he had seen that expression before. Ever since he was five years old, Draco Malfoy had been a master of that expression - it said "I want something", whether it was attention or sweets or the answer to a question.

"Yes?"

"Why are we here?" said Draco casually.

Snape frowned. "Your memory does give me cause for concern. I told you yesterday, did I not?"

Draco rolled his eyes, snapping his book shut and clambering off his bed. "I know, I know." He drifted over to the wardrobe, and opened it up, revealing an oval-shaped mirror that he began to examine his reflection in. His brow furrowed in a frown. "Can I not even have a hint?"

"No," said Snape. He laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "You will find out when you need to, and not until. Kindly stop asking me."

"I think I deserve to know," said Draco. "And I wish you would stop treating me like a child. I'm not a student anymore. We're equal."

Snape let out a harsh, humourless laugh. "Comrades in crime, are we?"

"Call it what you like," said Draco. "It's what we are."

Snape said nothing, closing his eyes and reaching up to loosen the neck of his clothing. Wizard's robes in muggle London would attract too much attention, which had led to this new attire - dark trousers, a blood red shirt and a long coat that now hung in the wardrobe. Several years working undercover here for the Dark Lord had given Severus vital knowledge of muggles, knowledge that Draco would be helpless without.

"How long will we be here?" asked Draco, from somewhere beyond Snape's closed eyelids.

"A week."

"And what will be happening at the end of that week?"

For a moment, Snape paused, thinking. Draco had no idea just how monumental that question was, or how long it would take to give a complete answer.

"It depends," said Snape. It was the easiest answer, and the best that Draco would get.

"What on?"

"Various factors."

"Such as?"

"Whether I kill you to stop your incessant questions," snapped Snape.

Draco's weight rested on the end of his bed. "That'll be two in a month," the boy said darkly, bitterly.

Snape knew that the comment was half-hearted, thrown by a frustrated teenager that was tired of being so oblivious to the changing world around him. For some reason, it still struck him to the heart like a knife and he snapped, his eyes flying open.

"Sorry, sorry," said Draco, palms held up defensively as Snape rounded on him.

"Stop it," Snape hissed. "How dare you talk about that. How dare you. If you knew just why - "

He saw the anger and frustration flare up in Draco's eyes, as the boy leapt to his feet, fists tight. "Then tell me!" he said angrily. "The only reason I don't know anything is because I'm not being told a thing, just dragged between hotels and told to shut up every five minutes! I want to know what's going on!"

"And be glad of it," snarled Snape. "Six times today alone, I've seriously considered wiping my memory so I don't have to endure thoughts of 'what's going on'. Be grateful that you're alive, and appreciate that you are only alive because of me."

Beaten, Draco fell silent and glowered at the floor with crossed arms. Just as he opened his mouth, perhaps to continue the argument, there was a knock on the door.

"Room service!"

Draco went to collect it. He dragged the trolley over, thanked the hotel worker with only a drop of sarcasm in his voice, and she left. The younger wizard set about the grapes gloomily.

"Sorry," he said at last, but for Snape, it had come too late.

He ignored the apology, uncorking the wine and pouring himself a generous glass. Draco helped himself to a glassful as well. Snape did not stop him.

"I'm just... frustrated, that's all," said Draco quietly. He kept his eyes in the dark red liquid now cradled in his palm, rather than look at Snape. "You can understand that."

"I can." Feeling that it was best to reassure Draco, he said, "Trust that I will protect you."

"I do," said Draco.

They met eyes for a second. Draco looked away, helping himself to sandwiches, while Snape continued to watch him in silence. All the deep, haunting thoughts and memories that had been plaguing him for several weeks chose his moment to surface once more, swirling around his brain like a poisoned river, and he was lost in thought.

So much had happened, in so little time. After that terrible night at Hogwarts, he had taken Draco to Spinner's End, attended to his wounds, and three days passed before either of them really spoke. If they did, it was simple things - "Are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Don't touch that if you're fond of your arm, it bites."

On the third night, things had changed. Snape still remembered the conversation so clearly, as if it was taking place right now in this hotel room.

_Draco had found the books under Snape's bed. Snape was surprised it had taken him all of three days to find them, considering Draco Malfoy's usual fascination for forbidden things. Since discovering them late evening, Draco had dragged the battered trunk downstairs and began to work his way through, savouring unlimited access to books that even the Restricted Section at Hogwarts would not allow._

_"How on earth did you get all of these, Severus?" he sighed, as he found yet another diagram of somebody being dissected._

_"Ask my mother," said Snape. He settled back into his armchair, tilting the wine glass to his lips and taking a quiet sip. "I hope you aren't taking ideas from those. Even the Dark Lord considers some of those books a trifle violent."_

_The comment was meant as a light joke, and he wondered if Draco would inquire when they would be visiting the Dark Lord to receive the honour for killing Dumbledore. Surely, the boy was eager for the glory. For this reason, Snape expected a laugh, an amused comment, some kind of appreciation..._

_But not the awkward silence he received._

_He glanced up, one eyebrow raised, and saw Draco closing the book that was open in his lap. There was something hollow and empty in his eyes, something tired, that Severus had never seen on somebody so young._

_"Draco?" he said quietly, frowning._

_The blonde teenager shifted uncomfortably, putting the book back in the box and the silence lengthened. Severus waited. Dull spots of sickly colour had touched Draco's cheeks, and as he turned to glance over one shoulder, Severus found himself shocked by the anguish in the boy's eyes._

_"Can we talk?" Draco asked._

_Severus blinked. He put down his wine glass, and said, "Well... yes. Of course." Nobody had ever asked him to talk before, let alone somebody younger than him, a student. Ex-student. "Why?"_

_"About... about him," said Draco._

_Somehow, Severus had a feeling he'd been waiting for this. Some tiny part of him had been almost hoping._

_"The Dark Lord?"_

_"Don't call him that," the boy said suddenly, and there was a flicker of fear in his voice. "You always call him that. Like you... like you respect him."_

_Severus raised an eyebrow. "As we are supposed to."_

_"Oh come on," Draco snapped. "I'm not stupid. I have more brains than Longbottom and Potter." Shifting to turn and look up at Severus, cross-legged in front of the fire, Draco's eyes were desperate and silent. "Look... Severus. I... I see it in your face sometimes. For about a year."_

_"You see what, precisely?"_

_"You're not... you're not faithful to him, are you? You're not loyal. Or, some part of you doesn't want to be. Some bit of you... doubts him. Doubts yourself."_

_Severus turned his eyes away. Damn, was the only word that flittered through his head. He knew it was nothing to be worried about, and that the Dark Lord would not have seen the same things, but he had not expected the Unbreakable Vow to go this far. Draco was now resistant to Severus's Occlumency. He could see through it. That Vow had caused so many problems, one after the other, and now he realised that one of his worries was coming true._

_Narcissa had known. She had done her research. The second question she posed to Severus on that night, "Will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?", was phrased so skillfully that Severus could do nothing but admire Narcissa's brilliance. She had successfully manipulated Snape into taking another Vow, something far deeper, far stronger than a simple promise to guide and protect, and he had been blissfully unaware of it at the time. She had bonded Draco to Snape, just like the fiery snakes that had bonded their hands, for life if not eternity. He had not promised to protect until Draco's mission was fulfilled... he had promised to protect, with no time limit, no end._

_A Vow like that produced a tighter bond between wizards. So tight, it seemed, that Draco's mind was being drawn closer to Snape's, and the veil of lies was no longer working._

_"Draco, this is... dangerous territory," he managed at last. "I would like to end this conversation now."_

_"I want to leave," Draco blurted out._

_Severus felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck, as the silence lengthened and Draco stared up into his face, pleading, desperate, praying that he had not mistaken the signs. Severus tried to keep his face blank. Once more, Narcissa's promise became Severus's downfall._

_"So do you," said Draco. His voice shook. "You're not loyal. You... you doubt him, like me. You're afraid."_

_"I am not afraid," snapped Snape, but the moment he said it, he saw a flash in Draco's eyes. The boy knew he was lying._

_"Please," whispered Draco. "I... I don't want to go back. I don't want to be... to be... I don't want things to be like this." He crawled across the rug, and clutched Severus's trouser leg in his hands, staring up, breathless with anxiety. "When I... when I saw Dumbledore... when you - "_

_"That's enough," said Snape, so firmly that Draco stopped talking. He gathered his thoughts for a moment, staring into Draco's eyes. How much should he tell the boy? How much was safe? "Draco... there are events you are unaware of, situations that - "_

_"Don't take me back to him," Draco begged. "Don't... please, I'll do anything, I'll... please..."_

_He continued to plead, and he was shaking now, as every fear seemed to race to the surface and struggle to get out first. Allowed to escape, his doubts were escalating rapidly, and Severus knew it._

_"Draco," he said. The boy fell silent, though still shook. Quietly, Snape gripped Draco's shoulders and left his armchair, kneeling in front of the boy and remembering another Malfoy he had knelt before, just a year ago. "Draco. Listen to me. If you're sure, if you're entirely certain, if there is not one bit of your being that remains loyal to the Dark Lord - "_

_"Don't!"_

_"Loyal to... loyal to Voldemort, then..." He looked down. This situation was so familiar. Would it end up the same way? "Then it might be possible for me to help you."_

_Draco's breath caught in his throat. "Yes, Severus, please... please..."_

_Snape swallowed. He could only pray that he was making the right decision, not another terrible one, not another choice he would regret. Dumbledore had died due to the Vow. Yet the reason he made the Vow was far more intricate than loyalty to Narcissa, or keeping up his appearance before the Dark Lord. Draco had no idea. The boy was a keystone in the bridge that was Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, but was so clueless, so naive, so unaware..._

_"It could take weeks before I am ready to explain," said Snape hurriedly. "Though I give you my word, I will, when the time is right. We need to leave this place before dawn."_

_Draco was nodding, frantic but shaking with gratitude._

_"The next month will be hectic. It will not be pleasant. If the Dark- oh, for Merlin's sake- Voldemort realises that both you and I have abandoned him, Death Eaters will be sent to hunt for us. Not only that, but the Order of the Phoenix will be just as eager to lay their hands on me at this moment in time."_

_"The Order of what?"_

_"Later. For now, pack everything you own. I expect you standing by the front door, wand in hand, when I return. Do you understand?"_

_Momentary hesitation flickered in Draco's eyes, and he opened his mouth, but Snape shushed him._

_"No. No more discussion. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes," said Draco quietly._

A month passed, of journeying from hotel to hotel, all the way to London without travelling more than a few miles each day. Finally, in Room 147 of the Bronze Ivy Hotel, Severus had reached their final destination - as ominous as it sounded, this room could well be the last place they could savour freedom. If all went well tonight, then tomorrow morning would be Severus's own personal judgement day. Should he be trusted, forgiven, believed, then the future was bright.

And if not...

Draco looked up, catching the momentary shudder that passed down Severus's body.

"What was that?" he asked, holding a half-eaten sandwich with the gherkin picked out.

"The Dark Mark," lied Snape. He turned his eyes away from Draco. "Eat your gherkin. Did Lucius never explain to you the benefits of vegetables?"

Draco was suspicious. As he shifted to try and see Snape's eyes, that vital indication of whether he was lying or being truthful, Snape got off the bed and picked up his wand.

"I need to attend to something," he said, over the question Draco started to ask. "I would very much appreciate if you do not listen in."

"What are you going to do?" said Draco, as Snape headed towards the bathroom. His nose wrinkled. "Gross, Severus, why would I want to listen in on you?"

"I thought that toilet humour ended when the toddler stage did," said Snape coldly. "For your information, I need to contact somebody and need privacy. If I come out and find your ear pressed against the door, I shall wipe your memory and you would therefore be wasting your time anyway."

"Who are you contacting?" said Draco, kneeling up on the bed. He was ignored. "Severus! Who are you contacting?"

The bathroom door slammed shut. Annoyed, Draco fell back on the bed and peeled open another sandwich, removing the gherkin and hiding it under Severus's pillow.


	2. Lupin's Mirror Image

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**Crimson Emeralds  
**_**by The Velvet Ghost**_

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Chapter Two - Lupin's Mirror Image

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For Remus Lupin, it had been an extremely long month. Every day seemed to pass at the speed of a year, and while it had been an eventful time, his life felt dull and hollow. Every single member of the Order of the Phoenix was experiencing the same thing. Minerva McGonagall was still utterly numb, and since Albus's funeral, Remus had seen her express no emotion whatsoever. There were no discussions about the future of Hogwarts, or even the future of the Order. Albus Dumbledore's carefully laid precautions seemed to fall apart without him, leaving only dark times with no promise of hope at the end of the storm.

For the first fortnight, the Ministry had been in touch with the Order daily, desperate to ascertain the circumstances of Dumbledore's murder or even the identity of his killer. The Minister of Magic himself had visited Minerva McGonagall while Remus was round at her house, and promised that if anybody could provide the Ministry with a name, that person would be brought to swift justice. The wizarding world was reeling from Dumbledore's death. The people needed to know what had happened, who had done it, and maybe seeing his murderer locked away in Azkaban would bring them some hope and comfort.

Nobody said anything though. The truth had not yet sunk in. Every single slither of evidence named Severus Snape as Albus Dumbledore's killer, and there was no possible motive or explanation except that, at last, Snape had revealed his true colours. From talking to Minerva, Remus knew that she hated accepting Severus's guilt - for in doing so, she would imply Dumbledore had been a fool to trust the man. Revenge and justice were not worth such an insult to Albus's memory.

Tonight was the same as any other. Remus sat in the lounge, finishing one last cup of coffee and turning the pages in a wrinkled copy of the Daily Prophet. Each new headline only made him feel worse. Lists of deaths sprawled on for pages and pages, and they were names that Remus knew, names of people that he had never thought would be gone. A month ago now, the name "Albus Dumbledore" had appeared in that list, quiet and insignificant, as he would have wanted it. Minerva carried the cutting everywhere she went.

Hope was a rare, almost extinct creature now. Remus shifted in his armchair, resting his head in one hand and rubbing his fingers against his forehead, eyes scanning a report on the attack at St Mungo's yesterday morning. Innocent, injured people had been an easy target for the Death Eaters. There was only so much the Healers could have done. His eyes picked out the same words that graced every other article now - "tragedy", "barbaric", "another blow to the Ministry of Magic", "He Who Must Not Be Named rising in power", "the loss of Albus Dumbledore".

He closed the newspaper, and left his half-drunk coffee on the side. Perhaps he would cancel his subscription to the Prophet - he knew, subconsciously, that each new edition would bring no good news.

It was getting late. Outside the window, the quiet muggle village in which Remus made his home was oblivious to the war going on so close. It was getting to the stage when even the most logical of muggles could not deny something was wrong with the world. They blamed everything they could, searching for an explanation - God, the government, terrorists, the environment, the universe, aliens - but it was making no difference. Voldemort was winning this terrible war. Without Albus Dumbledore, the chances of clawing back were slimmer and slimmer with each passing day.

Remus drew the curtains, shutting out the streetlight, and left the lounge. The stairs creaked reassuringly beneath his feet as he ascended, thinking only of having a shower and then sleeping away the night's troubles. Maybe tomorrow would bring a miracle.

The bathroom light flickered on with a faint 'plink', and Remus pulled down the blinds, reaching for the hem of his jumper - when a voice spoke, quite near by.

"Remus?"

Remus looked around. Above the bathroom sink, the mirror was flashing, a soft gold pulse every few moments.

"There's somebody wanting to talk to you," the mirror said in her gentle tones. "Shall I put them through, master?"

Wondering who wanted to talk to him at this time of night, and who could know about his mirror, Remus nodded numbly, watching his reflection mimic the action. "Yes, of course..."

Slowly, liquidly, he saw his reflection in the mirror start to turn paler. His hair was darkening, his nose lengthening, the patterned brown jumper changing smoothly to a deep red satin shirt, until all at once, Severus Snape's dark eyes gazed out of the mirror.

"I wondered when you would be in touch," said Remus quietly.

Snape put down his wand, and leant closer to the mirror. "Oh?"

"Yes," said Remus. It was hard knowing what to say. "You've changed your hair."

"With the Death Eaters, the Ministry of Magic and the Order searching for me, Lupin, can you blame me for altering my long-distance appearance?" Snape was cold and curt as always, but there was not so much malice in his voice, as if the scathing comment was only scathing through habit. "I am an outlaw, if you failed to notice."

"No, I noticed," said Remus. He glanced behind Snape, who appeared to be in a bathroom somewhere, with cream-coloured tiles and careful bronze designs of ivy leaves sneaking down the wall. "Where are you?"

Snape let out a laugh. "If only it were that easy, hmm, Lupin? Tell me now if you intend to contact the Order the moment I end this conversation, so I will waste no more time than I have to."

Remus shook his head, placing his hands on either side of the sink and looking Snape in the eye. "I won't do that, until I know why you've got in touch. You don't strike me as the kind to take such a risk, just to gloat."

"No," admitted Snape. "I am not. Nor do I have much to gloat about, at this moment in time."

"Are you sure?" said Remus, feeling the ache momentarily in his chest.

Snape knew what he was thinking, Remus could tell. "Positive, Lupin. Are you alone?"

"I am."

"Good." Snape reached up absent-mindedly, touching the back of his head, and said, "Lupin, might I ask what your general opinion is of me?"

Remus blinked. He had not been expecting such an odd question, but had a feeling he knew why Snape had asked it. "If you want to know whether I think you murdered Albus... yes, I do."

Seeing Snape frown, Remus continued.

"But as to why you murdered him? There, I'm perplexed, Severus. And whether you are as loyal to Voldemort as most of the Order are starting to accept... another question I can't guess an answer to." He watched Snape closely, waiting for a reaction. "My instincts say no."

There was the tiniest hint of a nod. "Is it wise of me to trust you? If I gave you my current location, can I be confident in that you will come alone? There are things I need to explain."

For a few seconds, Remus thought. If it was a trap to finish off the members of the Order one by one... did it entirely matter? The Order of the Phoenix was dying away already. Severus was also taking a substantial risk - if Remus suspected a trick, he could come accompanied by Ministry wizards and the Order, and Severus's plan would backfire. In all his experience of Severus Snape, Remus knew he was not the type of wizard to play with fire.

"Alright," he said at last.

Snape nodded. "I wish you to come tomorrow morning, as early as possible, and I shall explain what I need to explain. After a moment of hesitation, he added, "There will also be a job you must agree to do for me."

"Oh?" said Remus.

"Yes. After I have shown you what I must, I need you to bring somebody to me."

Remus knew from the look on Snape's face. "Harry." Snape did not need to answer. Rubbing his brow, Remus said, "Severus... I don't think that-... put yourself in my place, Severus. Your reputation is not exactly trustworthy at this moment in time. If Harry..."

"Yes, I know," snapped Snape. He seemed even more irritable than usual, as if restless or frustrated. "Consider the situation, Lupin. Is it not blatantly clear that I am alive?"

Remus said nothing.

"I assume we both agree on that fact," said Snape. "In which case, I am equally as trustworthy as you, concerning Harry Potter." He considered Lupin for a moment, then said, "If it makes you more comfortable, you may make your decision once I have explained everything tomorrow morning. Then, you may decide whether to bring the boy to me or not."

"Fine," said Remus. "Where are you?"

He saw Severus reach for something just out of sight. As he turned the object over to read a label sewn to one corner, Remus saw it was a hotel flannel.

"The Bronze Ivy Hotel," Snape read aloud. He put the flannel down. "London, Lupin. I checked the local landmarks. If you follow the street where the Leaky Cauldron is, turn right and take your first left, you will be unable to miss it."

Remus nodded. "Tomorrow morning, then. What time?"

"Several hours before dawn, if at all possible," said Snape. "The earlier you arrive, the earlier we can begin. We have a lot to discuss. And Lupin?"

Remus paused, his finger halfway towards the hinge, a press of which would end the mirror contact. "Yes?"

"Do not be followed," said Snape darkly, and the mirror flickered out, replacing by Remus's own reflection. He watched himself in the mirror for a few moments, thinking, before he reached for his jumper once more and turned on the shower. As he looked for a hairbrush, he made a mental note to set his alarm clock for early tomorrow morning - he did not want to be late.


	3. A Downwards Spiral

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**Crimson Emeralds  
**_**by The Velvet Ghost**_

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Chapter Three - A Downwards Spiral

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"Harry... you really don't have to go, you know. We don't mind you being here. We love your company, Harry, and... oh, I don't want to feel like we're pushing you away."

Harry looked up from the last open suitcase, trying to cram a final pair of socks alongside his t-shirts. "It's alright, Mrs Weasley," he said with a smile. "I want to find my own place. I'll still come visit."

She sighed sadly. "I just hope you'll be alright... I mean, all out on your own in the middle of London? Grimmauld Place isn't exactly well protected..."

"Ron and Hermione will be with me," said Harry.

Ron's mother looked as if she didn't think this would help somehow. She twisted her hands around the wooden spoon in her hands, and sighed again. "Alright, Harry... I know you'll do what's best. I have full confidence in you."

She came over, and as Harry eased the lid of his suitcase into place, she hugged him gently around the neck. He hesitated for a moment, then leant into her and let her pet his hair.

"Stay safe," she begged him. "Promise me Harry, you won't do anything stupid... you won't make any silly mistakes... it only takes one silly mistake - "

"I'll be alright, Mrs Weasley," he said. As they drew apart, he smiled at her. "If it makes you feel better, I'll stay for breakfast."

She gave a tearful laugh, her eyes shining, and said, "Of course you can stay for breakfast... and I want you to check in at least once a day, so I know the three of you are alright. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you." She picked up her mixing bowl, and began to stir the batter inside, as she watched him with motherly pride. "You're so grown up, Harry... I remember the first time I saw you. You were so very short..."

Harry couldn't help but grin. He rolled his suitcase to the edge of the kitchen with Ron and Hermione's, waiting by the door to be taken to Grimmauld Place.

"With your spellotaped glasses," Mrs Weasley said, fondly and sadly. "And your hair all over the place, all lost and bewildered... poor lamb..." Tears welled in her eyes. "Just like Ron... where have the years gone, Harry?"

Harry chuckled. "It feels like a century ago, doesn't it?"

"It does," she sighed. Wiping away her tears, she said, "Could you possibly go and find Ron and Hermione for me, Harry? They've gone for another walk through the garden." She peered through the kitchen window, as she spooned the batter into a frying pan. "I do wonder what they're up to."

"I'll go and find them," said Harry, and he left the kitchen, heading out into the back yard. Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. Thinking they had possibly gone for a stroll through the fields, he broke his way gently through the clutch of the hedge, out into the ocean of green and gold that surrounded the Weasley's house. High above, the sky was bright blue and streaked with fluffy white clouds - you would never guess that at this moment in time, Voldemort was out in the world somewhere, planning death and destruction and pain.

Harry pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and set off along the country path, thinking, looking up only when a squirrel or a field mouse rustled in the hedgerow. He had a feeling he knew where Ron and Hermione would be. They had been slipping off there quite regularly, since the end of last year. Harry didn't blame them. He certainly wished he had somewhere to hide away, and somebody to be there with.

Dumbledore's death had brought dark times. Although nobody ever said it, as if speaking the words aloud would make it true, the Order was struggling, perhaps even dying. Dumbledore had been the heart of the Order of the Phoenix. Without him, they were collapsing. Harry had a feeling there was another reason, one he didn't like to think about but came to his mind as he climbed through another hedge.

Nobody had ever thought a Death Eater would infiltrate the Order of the Phoenix so easily, so effortlessly, and cause such horrific damage. Snape's betrayal had taken everybody by shock. Perhaps they were afraid to rejoin, just in case history repeated itself and they were eradicated one by one by the Death Eaters. Harry knew that Professor McGonagall was wasting away before the Order's eyes.

Nobody could relight the hope that Dumbledore had brought, because nobody thought he would ever be gone. Harry had been prepared to see the people in his life picked off, person by person - he'd forced himself to accept that Hagrid, Professor Lupin, Ron, Hermione, even Ginny, they could all be snatched away from him like Sirius was.

But Dumbledore had been the pillar of the wizarding world.

As Harry scrambled through a third and final hedge, he found himself feeling guilty, as every member of the Order did, that he hadn't expected Voldemort to go after Dumbledore. The headmaster was the only person Voldemort was ever afraid of, so why hadn't they expected something like that? Everybody had been too busy protecting Harry to realise Dumbledore was in danger.

Too busy trusting Snape, he thought viciously. As he came to the crest of a hill, he stopped and looked down into the clearing below. The lake glittered in the morning sunlight, shimmering shades of olive and emerald and turquoise and bottle-green, and nestled in an old wooden swing by the willow tree were Ron and Hermione. He had his head tucked under her chin, watching the lake with an empty expression. Hermione was trying not to cry.

Harry suddenly felt awkward. Was it right to interrupt this moment?

Luckily, he was spotted before he had to make the decision. Hermione glanced up, and smiled quietly. "Harry..."

Ron looked up. Colour touched his cheeks, and he moved to pull away from Hermione, as if they'd been caught doing something forbidden, but Harry shook his head.

"Don't," he said to Ron. "I don't mind. You know I don't." Grinning, he said, "Did you think I hadn't noticed something before now? I'm not blind, guys. I'm not stupid either."

Hermione chuckled. "See," she said reassuringly to Ron. "He's not mad. I told you he wouldn't be."

"Mrs Weasley's making pancakes, I think," said Harry, sitting himself at the top of the hill and looking down at them. "She wants you both to come for breakfast, then we'll head off to Grimmauld Place."

Ron nodded quietly. "Alright..." Something in his voice told Harry that it was not alright at all.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Ron sadly. He gave Harry a weak smile. "It's just... over, you know?"

"What's over?" said Harry, confused.

"Hogwarts," said Ron. He waved a hand aimlessly in the air. "All the... the school, and the houses, and the Great Hall and classes... I just didn't think we'd ever have to leave." He sighed and looked down into his lap. "It just feels like recently, everything that makes sense and is reliable has... well, gone..."

Harry fell quiet. He knew what that felt like. Once upon a time, he'd thought that Dumbledore would always be here, and there would always be a Hogwarts to return to. Before that, he'd been comforted by the fact that Sirius would always have time to answer his letters. That was when Snape had just been a bit twisted and grouchy, and Draco Malfoy was just a prat.

"I really miss it," said Ron, and his voice broke. Hermione ran a hand through his hair. He turned his face away from Harry, into her neck, and struggled to speak. "I'm just... afraid. You can understand that right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, drawing his knees to his chest. "Yeah... yeah, I can..."

"And it feels like... even if everything turns out okay," said Ron, and his voice was somehow strong and weak at once. "Even if You Know Who gets what's coming to him, and Snape gets boiled alive in the grease from his own hair, and Malfoy... I don't know, explodes or something, then... well, it's not going to be okay, is it? There's not going to be a Hogwarts again, or a Dumbledore."

"Or a Sirius," said Harry quietly.

"Exactly," said Ron. He looked miserably into the lake, as a kingfisher skimmed low across the surface and fluttered away into the trees. "I hate Snape. I hate him so much. This is all his fault... I bet Voldemort has been planning this for years. His first major act when he's back from the dead."

"Probably," said Harry. He rested his chin on one knee, quietly, and a moment of silence passed. "I wonder where Snape is now."

"In hiding," said Hermione. "Most likely, at least... he'll have returned to the Death Eaters for his reward. I wouldn't be surprised if he's Voldemort's new favourite."

At last, something snapped in Ron and he exploded, "That stupid greasy hook-nosed... there's not a word! There's not a word, to describe how... how greasy, and horrible, and back-stabbing and stupid... he's just a... a..."

Hermione found the word.

Ron gave her a shocked look. "You're not supposed to know words like that, you're the good one!"

And in spite of everything that was going wrong, Harry found himself laughing. Dumbledore was gone, and so was Hogwarts, but at least he had Ron and Hermione. "Come on," he said. "Let's go have pancakes, then we can get off to Grimmauld Place and start cursing Mrs Black off the wall."

Ron and Hermione jumped down from the swing, hurried up the hill and together as a three, they walked back along the narrow countryside paths towards The Burrow. As they stepped through the hedge into the yard, the irresistable scent of fresh pancakes filled Harry's nostrils and his stomach growled longingly.

"What time is it?" asked Ron, as they approached the house.

Harry checked his watch. "Nearly ten o' clock. You two were gone for ages."

Hermione pushed open the kitchen door, and they stepped into the warm aroma of pancake batter and treacle. Mrs Weasley was carefully serving pancakes onto each plate, although one place at the table was already taken up. Remus Lupin smiled up at the three of them as they entered, and Harry grinned.

"Hi," he said.

Lupin pulled out the chair next to him. "Hello, Harry. How are you? Good summer?"

"Could be worse," said Harry.

"That's the spirit," said Lupin. Ron was already spooning a generous amount of honey onto his pancakes, as Hermione tried her best not to disapprove, biting her lower lip. Harry reached for the chocolate spread.

"How are you?" he asked Lupin, who nodded.

"Quite fine," he said. "I came for a word with you, Harry. There's somewhere in London I need to take you today. Molly tells me you're moving to Grimmauld Place, so I can help the three of you with your suitcases. My car's outside, and muggle transport seems a lot safer than the floo network these days."

"Thanks, Professor," said Ron through a mouthful of pancake, and Hermione's lips thinned.

"What is it you need a word about?" asked Harry curiously.

Lupin smiled. "Nothing bad, Harry, don't worry. There's just something we need to sort out together. It shan't take more than an hour or two at most."

"Are we coming?" asked Ron, eagerly.

"I'm afraid not," chuckled Lupin. "I'll take the three of you and your suitcases to Grimmauld Place, drop you all off with the luggage and then take Harry into London."

"Alright," said Harry. "Where exactly is it we're going? Diagon Alley?"

"Near to there," said Remus with a reassuring smile.

"Knockturn Alley?" Ron blurted out, halfway through his third pancake.

"No no, nothing bad," said Remus. "It's just something for Dumbledore. All will be explained soon enough."

As they all ate, and Mrs Weasley refilled the plate of pancakes over and over again, Harry found himself sinking into his thoughts. What would they need to do for Dumbledore? To be fair, he didn't... well, he wouldn't need much, anymore, unless he had left something on for after his death, something Harry had to do.

Oh.

Harry realised as he spread chocolate sauce on his fifth pancake, and his hand jittered - Dumbledore must have passed Lupin the job of assisting Harry with the remaining Horcruxes. Were they going on a mission? Harry felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. He didn't want to spoil what had been a good day with memories of Dumbledore, and the mission he still had to complete.

He was silent as he ate the last of his pancakes. Ron and Hermione were oblivious to his discomfort, as was Mrs Weasley, but Lupin seemed to notice. As he pushed his plate away, no longer able to eat, Lupin gave him a reassuring look.

"You'll be back in two hours maximum, Harry," he promised. "There'll be no danger involved - I promise. All you really need to do is listen and think."

Harry looked up, surprised. "What?" he said, but Lupin hadn't heard. He was standing up, taking his travelling cloak from the back of his chair.

"Shall we get going? The sooner we get there, the sooner you can all settle into your new home."

There was a murmur of agreement. Hermione got up from the table and went to check her suitcase one last time, as Harry put on his jacket, and Ron shuffled across the kitchen to his mother.

"Um... bye then, Mum," he said shyly, casting a nervous look at Harry. He shifted his foot on the floor. "I'll miss you. And I'll call, and all that. You can come for Christmas."

As Mrs Weasley pulled him into her arms for a hug, he looked both embarrassed and pleased. He dithered for a moment, his ears turning pink, before he reached around to pat her on the back.

"Be safe," she urged him. "And be careful. Charlie nearly amputated his own arm on the first day in his new flat."

"I know," mumbled Ron. "I'll be safe. And I'll be careful. Honest, Mum. I'm not stupid."

She released him, and held him by the shoulders, staring into his face with fierce love and pride. "My little Ronny... all grown-up..."

Ron turned a delightful shade of magenta. "Geroff, Mum... I'm only moving to London, it's not like I'm going to Mars..."

"Remember to send me an owl when you get there," Mrs Weasley said, finally letting him go. "Goodbye, Harry dear... Hermione, you're always welcome. The three of you look after each other."

With a last look back at the Weasley's kitchen, Harry left after Lupin, his suitcase held under his arm and that worried knot still lodged in his stomach. He didn't know why, but he had the feeling Lupin would have explained what this mission for Dumbledore was, if it was a harmless mission - or he wouldn't have been reluctant to explain it in front of Ron and Hermione. Outside in the drive was a rather old, battered little car painted in beige, and as Lupin approached, its headlights flashed happily.

"It might be a bit of a squeeze in the back," said Lupin apologetically, as he opened the trunk for their suitcases. "That's it, just pile them in. Hermione, how many of these bags contain books?"

"Five," said Hermione, with a blush, and Lupin gave her a fond smile.

"I only wish you could have stayed on to finish your NEWTs," he said, lifting the last bag into the trunk. "You would have obliterated all previous records, I think."

Hermione smiled, trying not to look too happy, and slid carefully into the back seat as Lupin opened the door for her. Just as Ron made to get in, Harry heard Hermione let out a squeal. "Professor, what's this?" she said, holding out a mauled stuffed toy. It looked as if it had been a penguin at one time.

Lupin smiled quietly and took it. "Sirius," he said. "I did tell him not to leave his toys in my car... I suppose this is yours now, Harry."

He offered it. Harry shook his head, "You keep it. As much as I'd love a half-chewed penguin."

"I think it was a panda," said Lupin. He smiled, opening the passenger door for Harry to get in. "I'm sure there's a nice place on my mantelpiece for this."

* * *

"That's the last bag then," said Lupin, rubbing his lower back as Ron staggered up to the front door of Grimmauld Place, his arms around another bulging bag of books. "Will you be alright with that Ron?"

Ron gave a groan, and managed, "Yeah, I'll try... don't be too long, Harry. The bookshelf will probably give way under all these. I'll end buried under Book Mountain."

Harry gave a small smile. "Good luck."

"Thanks," said Ron, and stumbled into the dark hallway of the house. Lupin turned to Harry. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're not still worried, are you?"

"A little," admitted Harry. He hesitated for a moment, then said, "Professor?"

"Remus," the older wizard said with a smile. "You're not a child anymore, Harry."

"Remus," said Harry. "Is this all about... the Horcruxes?"

A look of genuine confusion touched Lupin's face. "Horcruxes? What does Professor Dumbledore have to do with Horcruxes?"

"Nothing," said Harry quickly. So it wasn't about the Horcruxes then - so what was it? Not knowing was infuriating. "Remus, can't you just... give me a clue or something? I'm sort of... worried. You can understand, right?"

"I can," said Remus reassuringly. He opened the car door for Harry to get in. "We're going there now, Harry." He paused for a moment, his gentle hazel eyes resting on Harry's face, a hand still on the younger wizard's shoulder. "It's frustrating for me, not being able to explain it all to you here... I just know, from personal experience, that you won't believe if I told you now. It's only natural. If it had been explained to me without seeing the proof, I wouldn't have believed. But I do now, Harry, and I want you to remember that. I am not leading you into a trap."

"I trust you," said Harry. "It's just that... what do I have to believe? What am I going to be shown?"

"Good things," promised Remus. "Explanations. Closure."

"Are you sure?" said Harry awkwardly. "I mean... I'm not going to just end up with more to think about, am I? I've already got enough to be going on with, really..."

Remus shook his head soothingly. "No, Harry. In fact, the opposite - I promise that today will take a huge weight off your shoulders. It's nothing bad, nothing negative, nothing scary. Personally, I see it as thoroughly positive, for both you and the wizarding world."

Harry felt his stomach tighten slightly. "Oh... for the wizarding world. So it's something about me being a hero and how I've got to defeat Voldemort single-handedly... great, just what I need."

And to his surprise, Remus smiled. Something danced in his eyes. "Actually, it's not that at all. If anything, it's about help from unlikely places. Today is the day you'll learn that you're not as alone as you might think."

"Really?" said Harry, his eyes a little wide. "So... oh please, Remus, just tell me what it is!"

"You'll know soon enough," said Remus. He closed the car door, and moved around the bonnet, sliding into his own seat and starting the engine. "If it helps, you weren't the only one kept in the dark. I had no idea about this, nor does... well, nor does somebody else. He's due to find out when you do."

Harry looked up from the tin of travel sweets he had just taken from the glove compartment. "Who?"

* * *

"Draco," said Snape, and rapped the bathroom door with the back of his knuckles. "We need to leave." 

There was a scuffle from inside, and the bathroom door creaked open a fraction. Draco peered out. "Why? I thought I was to stay in here all morning."

"No," said Snape. "Your part in the proceedings has come. Quickly, out."

Looking confused but saying nothing, Draco picked up his book from the side of the sink and left the bathroom. He watched Severus with a frown, as the older man crouched and gathered a large bundle of towels into his arms. Something solid was hidden inside. After several weeks of asking questions and being told to shut up, Draco had learnt that it got him nowhere, so he didn't ask. To his surprise though, Severus answered the unasked question.

"A pensieve."

Draco's eyebrows lifted. "A pensieve? What for?"

"All will be revealed soon," said Snape. He looked around agitatedly. "Damn it all, where is it? Ah, Draco, that silver bottle there. Give me it."

Draco glanced around. A small phial, just like the ones they'd used in Potions, was waited on the dresser and shimmering slightly, the contents both water and cloud at the same time. He picked it up, intrigued, and gave it a shake.

"These are memories," he said. He'd seen his father extract enough of them from his head to recognise a memory when he saw it.

"Well done," snapped Snape, more stressed than angry. "Ten points to Slytherin. Make it a thousand. Give me the bottle."

Draco handed it over. He followed Snape, the bottle and the bundle to the door, then out into the corridor, knowing that asking questions would get him nowhere far. He dug his hands into his pockets. When they got to the elevator, Snape ushered him inside and shifted whatever it was in his arms, resting it on his hip, so he could press the button for the basement.

"The basement?" said Draco. "Why are we going to the basement with a pensieve? Can't you show me whatever it is in our room?"

"The guest list encompasses slightly more people than you," said Snape, distracted.

"Oh? Who?"

"Potter."

"Potter? Harry Potter?" Draco let out a cold, humourless laugh, the sort that usually brought Crabbe and Goyle out in a strong case of snickering. "As if Harry Potter will turn up to a muggle hotel, to meet you and me, of all people. He saw you murder - "

"No," snapped Snape, and his face contorted for a moment. "Stop it. What have I told you?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "Why is it so hushed up? I saw it. You saw it. We both saw it."

Snape did not answer.

"Anyway," said Draco vaguely. "Potter isn't that stupid, as much as I hate to say it. He won't come."

"He has no idea that you and I will be there," said Snape. "I had Lupin come earlier... he was the person most likely to succeed. Closest to Potter, without wanting to snap my neck. I considered Rubeus Hagrid, but he was too close to Dumbledore."

"So it was Lupin," said Draco frowning. "When I was locked in the bathroom. Why wasn't I allowed out then?"

"Lupin and I decided that Potter and yourself need to learn at the same time."

"Potter won't stay in the same room as me for long," said Draco darkly, folding his arms and glaring across the elevator at the flashing lights, watching them plummet slowly down through the building. "If I end up jinxed... you saw what he did to me last year. In the bathroom."

Once more, Snape said nothing. Draco didn't notice and carried on, now lost in his complaints and not bothered if anybody was actually listening.

"I had no idea Potter knew curses like that," he said. He looked interested for a moment, poking his tongue into his cheek as he thought. "I do wonder where he learnt it. It doesn't seem like something any of his goody-goody friends would know..."

"Mm."

"Granger, perhaps? No, she'd never look in that kind of book... it's a rare curse. I've certainly never heard it. Sectumsomething. It sounds like one that somebody created themselves, for personal use... why would Potter be inventing his own hexes?"

"Potter did not invent Sectumsempra," bristled Snape, and his voice was so vicious that Draco went quiet, forgetting his miseries. "I have no wish to hear anymore of your rambling. This is a very delicate stage. The most delicate."

With a gentle jolt, the lift reached the basement and the doors slid open, revealing depressing grey concrete walls, pressing darkness and no hint of a window. A single flickering electric light illuminated a dripping puddle. Draco shuddered.

"Severus, are you sure that this is for the best?"

"Certain," said Snape quietly. As the lift doors slid shut and the older wizard knelt, unwrapping the pensieve, he said, "As was Albus Dumbledore. I doubt I have the right to argue with his judgement any longer."

Draco didn't speak. He settled himself on the floor next to Severus, held his knees to his chest, and decided that he quite wanted to go home.

"There are two separate versions," Severus explained, as he unfolded the last towel from the pensieve and unscrewed the lid of the bottle of memories. "One for Potter. One for you. Lupin should arrive with Potter shortly, and they have a separate pensieve set up across the basement. We shall stay here."

"I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with this," said Draco, edgily. "What exactly is going on?"

"You're going to be shown a series of memories," said Snape. "A message at the start explains everything." He emptied the contents of the bottle into the pensieve, drew his wand and stirred quietly. "I will be with you throughout."

"Oh," said Draco quietly. "Great."

Severus gave him a frown that was remarkably fond, grasped him by the back of the neck and pushed his face forwards, down into the mist of the pensieve, as across the basement a second lift opened.


	4. The Truth

* * *

**Crimson Emeralds  
**_**by The Velvet Ghost**_

* * *

Chapter Four – The Truth

_Author's brief notes – my apologies for grammatical errors in this chapter, but I've beta-read it myself and you all know what I'm like. Feel free to point out my bloopers – we'll do a group beta-read, shall we? Prizes for whoever can find the most spelling mistakes._

* * *

Looking around at the miserable darkness of the basement, Harry could think of only one thing to say. He looked up at Lupin, quizzically, and asked, "Remus... is this a joke?"

Remus smiled down at him, put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from the lift doors, through bags of laundry and broken appliances, to a small dark corner tucked out of the way. "It isn't, I'm afraid. I did expect somewhere a little more comfortable. I was shown everything in one of the rooms..."

"Everything?" said Harry. "What's everything? What exactly were you shown?"

"Various things," said Remus, absently, as he searched for something amongst the debris of electrical gadgetry. "Then again, we will need somewhere more private than a hotel room for the repercussions..."

"Repercussions?" said Harry anxiously. "Look, Remus... this is scaring me. What are you going to show me? And why will we need privacy for afterwards?"

At last, Remus had found what he was looking for. He scooped something out of the mess of appliances, dragging it to a patch of empty concrete floor, and Harry saw that it was a pensieve. From the inside pocket of his robes, Remus drew a small bottle filled with the eerie silver shimmer of liquid memories.

Harry went quiet. Remus smiled, and beckoned him closer. Obediently, Harry came and knelt by Remus's side, looking apprehensively into the pensieve.

"Before we begin, I want you to know that I'm here for you," said Remus quietly. "Whatever you may see, whatever questions you have, I will answer. If you have any doubts, I want to hear them Harry, so we can talk through them. Don't let them fester."

"Alright," said Harry. He watched as Remus unscrewed the bottle, pouring the contents gently into the pensieve, which began to swirl. "Are you coming with me?"

"Of course," said Remus. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "In your own time, Harry."

Uncomfortable on the cold concrete floor, Harry gazed into the depths of the pensieve and wondered what it was that he was about to be shown, what could possibly require such tight secrecy. Did he really want to know? If he asked to leave, now, would Remus let him?

And would he regret it?

With a last glance into Remus's reassuring tawny eyes, Harry gripped the edges of the pensieve and lowered his face into the pensieve. Everything began to swirl wildly around him. His knees lifted from the solid ground, and for a moment he was simply lost, aware only of Remus's hand on his shoulder, before everything began to slow down once more. At last, it stopped, and his feet hit solid ground.

Dumbledore's old office materialised around them, just as it had been when Harry last saw it. All of Dumbledore's little silver trinkets whirred and clicked and tinkled, one by the door emitting a gentle puff of steam as if to welcome them. Behind the desk, alive and well as Harry always remembered him, was Albus Dumbledore. He was smiling bemusedly as he trailed his wand around the misty silver contents of a pensieve, apparently deep in thought. Harry watched, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. He glanced over his shoulder to peer down the staircase, wondering if Dumbledore was expecting a visitor - when to his ultimate surprise, he heard Dumbledore say his name.

"Well, Harry..."

He whipped round. Dumbledore was still looking into the pensieve, smiling more widely, and his gentle blue eyes were bright with amusement.

"Sir?" said Harry, unsure, and Remus smiled.

"Only a memory, Harry."

Dumbledore looked up from the pensieve, glancing around the room as if looking for somebody. His eyes settled on the doorway. Harry felt as if Dumbledore could actually see him, was talking to him, and a prickle raced up his spine.

"This is possibly going to be the most peculiar way I've ever sent a message," said Dumbledore. "Then again, I suppose it is a rather peculiar message... and I want you to believe. I want you to trust me, Harry. Naturally, I needed to get this message to you in a way that you would find the easiest to trust, a form that would ease some of the doubts you will most probably have. I hope it will be alright."

He cleared his throat, picked up a cup of tea from its delicate purple saucer and took a sip.

"If all goes according to plan," he said, "then this message will be shown to you by Remus Lupin, who has also been given some extra information. He should be able to answer a few of your questions, should it be required."

Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. Harry did not know what to think. Dumbledore was looking directly into his eyes, speaking with such confidence and warmth that Harry found it impossible to believe it was just a memory. Surely, if he moved, Dumbledore's gaze would follow him around the room.

"Harry, if this message is ever given to you, it will be because I am not here in person to explain the situation to you," he said. "The most likely explanation is that I have died... or been murdered."

Harry felt a hot, angry flush cross his chest. Remus put an arm around his shoulders, and said, "It's alright."

"And this may come as a shock," Dumbledore was saying, taking another casual drink from his tea, "but I am fully aware that it will be Severus who has killed me."

At once, Harry's jaw fell. He looked wildly up at Remus, and then back at Dumbledore, who was speaking again.

"No doubt you are wondering how I know this information," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "And it could well be a long story, Harry. I thought that simply sitting here and explaining it all to you would be both difficult to believe and boring, and so I have carefully put together a collection of memories belonging to myself and Severus."

He reached into the drawer of his desk, and extracted the same tiny bottle that Remus had added to the pensieve. He shook it slightly. The light danced across the surface.

"After this message, a series of memories will begin," explained Dumbledore kindly. "It may be a lot to take in, but I'm sure that Remus will stay with you. As I make this memory, he does not yet know what is due to happen. No doubt that when he is guiding you through each memory, he will have only learnt of the situation a few hours or days beforehand, so please, do not turn on him or blame him for anything you may see. Both of you are together in these strange events. I assume that if you are being shown these memories, he has already viewed them and believes that they are genuine. I would ask you to trust him, Harry."

Harry swallowed. His throat felt dry, and suddenly he was anxious, paranoid even. Dumbledore knew that Snape was going to murder him, so why hadn't he done something to stop him? Was Dumbledore finally going to admit that he had been wrong about Snape?

"I do hope that you were not present when Severus did what he had to do," said Dumbledore, and for the first time, there was a sad flicker in his eyes. "If you were, I must apologise for any trauma you have suffered, any guilt, or other painful emotions. Please, do not feel sorry. Also, if you did have to view what took place, I doubt that Severus will have been around afterwards to explain what had happened, and nor would you have believed him... but Harry, I want you to believe now. I want you to trust. If you had to view my death, and have believed Severus Snape to be acting out of malice, I must beg you to let go of those feelings. It is vital for you to understand..."

Harry shook his head, feeling a painfully hard lump in his throat, and Remus's arm tightened gently around his shoulders. "You'll understand soon," promised Remus. "I was doubtful at first. The memories explain everything, Harry..."

"You may wonder why I did not tell you any of this when I was alive," Dumbledore was saying, and he picked up his cup of tea, taking a sip, looking perfectly happy. He did not seem like a man who knew he would someday be murdered. "The simple fact of the matter is that I knew you would try to stop the series of events, Harry. Please, do not take it as offensive. If anything, it is actually a compliment, that you would be noble and courageous enough to try and stop what must happen."

He put down his tea.

"Unfortunately though, Harry, it is inevitable. I am old, as much as it pains me to say it, and I am becoming weak. Lord Voldemort is at the height of his power. The prophecy you were shown had no mention of me, and for a purpose, Harry. It is you who will defeat Lord Voldemort. Not me. My death will not trouble me, if I know that it will better your survival, and the survival of the wizarding world. Severus has assured me that he shall not torture me a little at first."

And to Harry's surprise, he actually chuckled.

"In fact, I have a curious feeling that Severus will have some trouble," he said, amused. "I suggested Avada Kedavra, and he did argue that such a curse requires powerful intention behind it. I think that Severus will only be able to muster enough intention to knock me off my feet, perhaps."

Harry felt his skin go cold. Why hadn't he noticed? The killing curse did not knock people off their feet, as had happened to Dumbledore. Cedric Diggory had simply crumpled to the floor. Snape must have just knocked Dumbledore over, and... it was the fall.

"On with matters," said Dumbledore pleasantly, and picked up his tea once more. "My death is inevitable, Harry, and I am ready to begin my next great adventure. At the same time, you are about to start one of your own. These memories have been kindly donated by Severus Snape, who - "

A knock came on the door of Dumbledore's office, and the headmaster looked up as the door opened. Sending a flush of cold anger down the back of Harry's neck, Snape entered the room. He was slightly paler than usual.

"Headmaster?"

"Do come in, Severus. I was just making a message for Harry."

Snape stayed in the door, a frown creasing his brow. "I thought the little brat was just to be shown the memories."

"No, I thought I would add a personal touch," said Dumbledore. "Speaking of which, do you have...?"

Reaching a hand inside his robes, Snape extracted a small jar of silvery thoughts. "I have. Albus, I must speak with you... this is not necessary. There are loopholes that can - "

"No, Severus. Do give me the jar, and let us add the final piece... do you wish to say anything to Harry first?"

Snape cast a suspicious eye around the room, and said, gruffly, "There are many things I wish to say to Potter, though I would say none of them in your presence."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "There's a lot of things I'd like to say to you too, slimeball..."

Dumbledore stood up, crossing to take the jar from Snape. Harry noticed, reluctantly, that Snape was loath to hand it over. At last, he relinquished the memories. Dumbledore took them back to his desk, unscrewing the tiny glass bottle and the jar, inserting his wand carefully within and stirring.

Snape was still in the doorway, watching with a pained expression.

"Headmaster, I - "

Dumbledore chuckled. "I have always been fascinated with your fear of death, Severus... I do wonder why it is those who have been Death Eaters that fear it the most."

"This is about more than death," said Snape darkly. "Your death will - "

"Have tragic consequences for the wizarding world," said Dumbledore. "Yes, Severus, you have mentioned this before... however, my survival will have even more tragic consequences, if the new prophecy is correct."

Hearing that word, prophecy, Harry turned to look quizzically up at Remus, who simply squeezed his shoulder.

"Are you sure there is nothing else you wish to add?" Dumbledore offered kindly, as he tipped the contents of the jar gently into the bottle, using his wand to spoon out the last few wisps.

Snape's lips thinned. "Not particularly."

"Then we are done," said Dumbledore with a small smile. "Just one last memory... goodbye, Harry. Thank you."

He placed the tip of his wand to his temple, and the room began to dissolve around Harry and Remus. Instinctively, he stepped closer to Remus and watched as colours and shapes began to fly, settling themselves into place, building the stage for another memory.

As the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place, Harry found himself standing outside the last place he wanted to be at the moment. The dark windows of number four, Privet Drive, peered down at him almost as if accusing him of a crime. The neatly-trimmed lawn seemed freshly mowed, as always, but something seemed wrong. Everything looked slightly different. There were the wrong flowers in the flowerbed, and the garage door was a strange shade of green that it had never been - at least, in his memory. It was hard to see properly, because all the street lamps were out and it was pitch dark, but the car parked in the drive didn't look like any car he could remember Uncle Vernon owning.

"When is this?" Harry asked, and Remus hushed him softly, pointing down the street. Harry turned to look. Just at the corner stood a figure, in long robes, and for a moment Harry felt a flicker of fear. He stepped closer to Lupin.

With a faint plink, the streetlights all flickered on, glowing like orbs of light in the darkness. Harry blinked against the sudden brightness. He could just make out the figure at the corner of the street now. Albus Dumbledore was looking back at number four, his expression gentle, as he spoke.

"Good luck, Harry," and with a pop, he disapparated.

Remus put his arm around Harry's shoulders, and guided him towards number four. "This takes place about seventeen years ago, Harry," he said softly. "If you see the bundle of blankets on the doorstep..."

"Yes?"

"It's you, Harry. Just a baby. Dumbledore arranged for you to be brought here, to your aunt and uncle, so they could look after you until it was ready for you to come to Hogwarts."

Harry, still a little startled that the blankets on the doorstep were actually him, gave a nod. "I know all this."

"Ah, now this is where things get a little complicated," said Remus. Carefully, he stepped over the huddle of gnomes by the flowerbed, resting against the front wall of the Dursley's house, looking down at the front door step. Harry could just see himself nestled inside the blankets, drifting off to sleep. It was a very strange sensation.

"Complicated?" said Harry. "What do you mean?"

"Nobody has ever told you this," said Remus, "but the night's events didn't quite end there..."

As Harry saw Remus glance up towards the front wall, he turned around. Three figures were hurrying down the street towards the house, careful to walk just out of the glow of the streetlights, as if wary of being seen. Harry could hear the click of high heels on the pavement, and judging by the brisk sway of the middle figure's hips, it was a woman. She was accompanied by a tall man in a long cloak, and to her right was a shorter man. As they turned down the drive and the streetlight caught their faces, Harry realised who they were.

Severus Snape, in an ankle-length cloak, looked as if he couldn't have been a day over twenty-five. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, slightly past his shoulders, and he was even paler than usual. Harry didn't recognise the woman, a tall witch with curly hair, wearing high-heeled boots and carrying a wand. To her right was a much younger Remus Lupin, without a streak of grey in his hair, and he looked the calmest out of the three.

"Who's the witch?" Harry whispered to the Remus at his side.

"Nixie Plinkett," Remus murmured. "She was in the Order, around the time you were born. She was killed not long after this night... a revenge attack, by Death Eaters. She and Severus were involved for a while."

Harry somehow couldn't imagine Snape ever having a girlfriend, but left the story for another day. He watched the three people approach the doorstep. With a graceful swish of her wand, Nixie Plinkett cast what Harry recognised as a silencing charm, as the younger Lupin gathered the baby Harry into his arms, lifting him off the cold stone.

"Terrible scar," he murmured softly. "Do you think we should fix it?"

"Best not to do anything except what Dumbledore asked," said Nixie. She had a faint American accent, as if she'd spent a few years there and brought it back as a souvenir. "Besides, it's only a scar."

"Poor Harry," sighed Remus. "Still... it's best to do this quickly, in case we wake the muggles... I'd rather not spend a night in jail..."

Harry was watching Snape. He was clearly agitated, looking down the street as if waiting for somebody to jump out and attack. The tip of one black dragon-hide boot was tapping against the pavement quietly.

"Sevvy?" said Nixie quietly, and Snape turned to look at her. Amazingly, she was not rebuked for the pet name.

"Mm?"

She ran a hand down his arm. "Loosen up, doll. It won't take long, then we can head home. How's that sound?"

Snape said nothing. The young Remus looked up, the bundle of blankets still cradled in the crook of his arm.

"Severus?" he said. "You're not having doubts, are you?"

"No," said Snape. "No, of course not, Lupin."

Remus didn't seem to buy this story. He gave Snape a reassuring look, and said, "It's the only way that Albus will trust you, Severus... after this, he'll have complete faith in you. You won't earn his trust any other way."

"I know," said Snape quietly. As Nixie moved closer to him, he put an arm around her waist, absent-mindedly. "I think it would be best to get this over and done with, before I have time to reconsider..."

Nixie peered up at him. "If you're worried, you know, you can think again. There's no going back. They call it an Unbreakable Vow for a reason."

Still hiding under a hanging basket with Lupin, Harry raised his eyebrows.

Snape didn't answer her, as if he didn't trust himself not to make a scathing comment. "This would be easier kneeling. I would rather not make this Vow, only for you to drop the baby on its head, Lupin."

"I won't," said Lupin with a gentle frown, but all the same, he knelt obligingly on the ground in front of the doorstep. Snape knelt before him. Nixie crouched, holding up her wand, as Snape and Lupin joined hands. Harry leant closer.

"Will you, Severus Snape, protect Harry Potter from all harm, for as long as you are physically able?" said Remus quietly.

"I will," said Snape.

From the tip of Nixie's wand burst a stream of flames that lashed themselves tightly around Snape and Remus's hands. Snape closed his eyes.

"Will you do everything in your power to keep him from harm?"

"I will."

A second fiery rope coiled tightly around their fingers, burning in the darkness and throwing dancing amber lights across the Dursley's front door.

"And will you, completely and faithfully, be loyal to Albus Dumbledore and turn your back on Lord Voldemort?"

Snape's eyes flew open. This question had apparently not been planned. He glared hatefully at Lupin, torn for several tense seconds, before his eyes closed once more. He hesitated.

"I will," he said, and as the final ribbon of flame tightened around their hands, his lips thinned. "I will regret this later..."

"Shhh," said Nixie softly, and reaching out, brushing her fingertips over his cheek. "Ask the questions."

"Will you, Remus Lupin, protect Harry Potter from all harm, for as long as you are physically able?"

"I will."

A fourth burning snake wound tightly about their hands.

"Will you do everything in your power to keep him from harm?" asked Snape, and once more came that quiet affirmation.

"I will."

As the fifth fiery rope tangled in place, Snape was quiet, thinking. He wore an expression that suggested he was struggling to decide what delightful promise he could make Remus take. Harry suspected it would be something awful.

He was very wrong.

Snape looked up, seriously, and their fingers tightened against each other.

"And will you, should the time come when Potter learns of my past... of the things he may not want to know... will you assist me in explaining?"

"Of course I will," said Remus, and as the final bond coiled amongst the rest, there was a soft flash. Each fiery snake burst into pieces, crackling, until the flames flickered out and the doorstep was plunged once more into soft darkness.

"There," said Nixie. She pushed her wand back up the sleeve of her striped jumper. "All done. Didn't hurt, did it?"

"Physically? No," said Snape.

She smiled, as if his bitterness amused her, and stood up. Remus placed Harry back on the doorstep, tucking the blankets around him carefully, and smoothed a hand over his forehead.

"You're safe now, Harry," he promised. "I challenge any Death Eater to hurt you... even Severus can't now."

"Hilarious," said Snape coldly. He had stood, his arm around Nixie's waist again. "Is there anything else? It's late, Lupin, and I believe there's a glass of wine beckoning me back to the fireside."

Remus chuckled, standing up. "You shouldn't lie, Severus. I know very well that you'll both be heading for the nearest muggle pub."

"Hmm," said Snape. As Nixie moved away down the path, and Snape followed her backwards, he said to Remus, "Tell Dumbledore I did it willingly."

"And you did," said Remus. "I'm very proud of you."

Snape snorted. Without another word, he turned and left after Nixie, whose auburn curls were bouncing gently in the glow of the street lamp. By the time they reached the end of the drive, both had disapparated. Remus Lupin was left alone, looking down at Harry, smiling.

"He isn't usually like that," he told the tiny baby, who was now fast asleep, clinging to a corner of the blanket. "It's been a long day for him... he's probably tired." He redid his scarf. "Hopefully, it won't be too long before I see you again, Harry... take care..."

He tucked the ends of his scarf away, and with a faint pop, he vanished. Privet Drive began to dissolve. Harry found his feet lifting, the whole world rotating and swirling and spinning, only vaguely aware of Remus Lupin's hand on his arm.

With a faint flicker as the last streaks of colour settled in place and the world stopped turning, Harry found himself standing in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, late evening time. Through the double doors out into the grounds, Harry could see the reflection of the moon in the lake. Just like Dumbledore's office, the Entrance Hall was the same as it had always been - reassuring and familiar, as if it was Harry's home. Deep down, it always would be. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling a longing sensation low in his stomach, hating that he would never go back to Hogwarts.

"Ah, now this takes place quite some time later," said Remus. "Shortly after the end of your fifth year, in fact. The students left for home a few hours ago, but - "

Somebody was coming up the corridor to the dungeons. Remus lapsed into silence, and Harry turned, watching as Severus Snape emerged into the Entrance Hall. He was wearing a very old travelling cloak, set with silver buttons that looked as if they were some kind of family heirloom, and there was a single suitcase under his arm. His expression suggested that he couldn't wait to get out of here.

Harry shuffled to one side, closer to the doors of the hospital wing so that Snape wouldn't move straight through him, but next second there was a bang so loud that Harry almost leapt out of his skin. Snape must have jumped as well, for the suitcase clattered to the floor. He wheeled around to face the doors of the hospital wing. Standing there was Sybill Trelawney. She was clutching an empty bottle of cooking sherry, and looked quite mad, her eyes wide and her hair stuck on end.

"Severus!" she cried, her voice dying to a whisper. "I... I sensed it was you. Your aura... such a terribly tragic aura. Dear Severus."

Snape was stooping, picking up his suitcase angrily. "If you don't mind, Trelawney, I have a carriage waiting and wish to leave. Perhaps when I return in September, there will be time for forecasting my grisly death..."

"Not yours, dear Severus," she said. Casting a look around the hall, as if demons were watching her from every corner, she beckoned him closer with a bony finger. "Severus... I have to tell you... last night, as I consulted my crystal ball... I had a premonition. A terrible premonition. I fear for your family."

"All my family are quite fortunately dead," said Snape coldly. "Wherever they are, I hope they're being put through as much agony as possible. Thank you for the best news I've had all year."

She stood, numbly, shaking from head to toe and looking like a quivering Christmas tree bedecked in one too many decorations. Her eyes widened, and quite suddenly, broke out in tears. "My dear man! You don't understand... but how can you understand? The burdens of the psychic realm... perhaps - no, I shall not tell you. I could not force you to leave with the knowledge that I have, my dear Severus..."

Snape sighed. He moved to push past her, and Harry watched him head towards the doors, his travelling cloak flaring behind him like the wings of some black angel. Just as he reached the steps, a voice spoke, and even Harry stopped dead.

"Crimson emeralds..."

Snape turned, a frown on his face, glowering at Trelawney with the deepest irritation. The moment that he saw her though, his face slackened. His anger seemed to dissolve. Harry knew why.

Trelawney was making a prophecy. She had gone completely stiff, her eyes rolled back into her head, the sherry bottle clutched in a white-knuckled fist that was shaking ever so faintly. Her mouth was wide open, and from her throat had come a harsh, cruel voice that sent shudders down Harry's spine.

"What did you say?" said Snape, and a deep tremor racked Trelawney's rigid spangled frame.

"Crimson emeralds... the Dark Lord's power rages once more, but a union will be formed of onyx black and white gold. Slytherin's banner glitters through the eyes of ancient enemies - the son of a dead man, and the son of a dying bloodline, soon to be bound by flaming serpents... only together, a single force, will shattered prophecies be fulfilled. The crimson emeralds must unite or the Dark Lord will conquer all, bringing death to our world."

And with that, her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor in a drunken heap, knocking herself between the eyes with the sherry bottle. She began to snore.

Snape stood, shocked and wide-eyed for several moments as he rapidly repeated the prophecy under his breath. Abandoning Professor Trelawney's crumpled body on the ground, even dropping his suitcase, he turned and went flying towards the marble staircase, heading for Dumbledore's office, his robes flying behind him.

Remus's hand closed gently on Harry's wrist.

"Onto the next," he said, and the Entrance Hall began to whirl around them in a storm of light and shadow.

Once more, Dumbledore's office appeared before them. Behind his desk, Dumbledore was writing a letter of some kind, tickling his chin with the end of a very long, vibrantly purple quill. The calendar behind his desk, featuring different varieties of fancy teapot, gave the date as two weeks before the start of Harry's sixth year.

Harry sat down quietly in one of the chairs at Dumbledore's desk. Part of him wanted a pensieve of his own, so he could unload some of the new things he had learnt - it was hard, trying to deal with them all and work out where this was going. He felt like he was stuck in the middle of a very complicated book, whose end he wouldn't understand unless he ploughed through the rest.

There was no time to think. From behind him came a bang so loud that Harry leapt out of the chair, spinning on the spot to see Snape blow into the office. He was wearing full-length Death Eater robes, a white mask held in his left hand, and judging from his blotchy complexion he had sprinted quite a distance to get here.

"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore. He pushed aside his parchment. "Is something amiss?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "No. I thought it would be entertaining to pay you a very hasty visit, in full Death Eater uniform, and make the experience more authentic by running from Hogsmeade."

The sarcastic bite deflected off Dumbledore's calm face, as he stood, drawing a chair for Snape to collapse into. "Do tell me everything. Tea?"

"Brandy?" muttered Snape. He looked faintly surprised as Dumbledore waved his wand, conjuring a hefty glass of brandy and nudging it into Snape's hands. "Thank you."

"Any time. Now, I believe you have something to tell me."

"Draco Malfoy," said Snape. He met Dumbledore's eyes heavily. "I think that Trelawney's prophecy might have some weight behind it, Headmaster. He was initiated into the Death Eaters today."

"Oh, dear... was he Marked?"

"He was." Snape looked away. "I was given the honour of doing it."

There was silence for a moment, before Dumbledore spoke again. "Severus, I can read you like a book. Your title is 'feeling guilty'. Do not... refusing would only have made Lord Voldemort entirely suspicious."

"I'm not particularly comforted, Albus."

"I know." Dumbledore sighed, and gave Snape a very calming, concerned expression. "He is now a Death Eater then, Severus... this is something of a problem."

"More of a problem than you are aware," said Snape. "He has been given a... a mission."

"Oh?"

"To prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord."

"Voldemort, Severus, do call him by his real name. And what is this mission?"

Snape was silent for a few moments. Somehow, Harry knew what was coming. When it came, he was proved horribly correct.

"To... to kill you, Albus."

"I see," said Dumbledore calmly. He took the brandy from Severus's hands, drank a good quarter of it and handed it back. "There, that's slightly better. Do we have any more information?"

"No," said Snape. He rubbed his forehead. "The Dark Lord has told him that whatever resources he needs are available, but it will be up to him to construct some kind of plan." Sipping at the brandy, he added, "I shall try to wheedle some information out of him, Albus... offer my assistance. If he confides in me..."

"Yes, that would be helpful," admitted Dumbledore. "This is an interesting development... I have been through Sybill's prophecy a few more times. As far as I can tell, her psychic alter-ego has been indulging itself in one too many metaphors."

"Do you have any idea what it might mean?" asked Snape. He sat back, cradling the brandy, taking another mouthful.

"Yes, I do. We were correct in our first thoughts... I am quite certain that the prophecy refers to Draco and Harry. Harry would be onyx black, the son of a dead man and the crimson part of the prophecy - his hair, parentage and school house respectively. Draco's half of the prophecy is similar... white gold, the son of a dying bloodline, emeralds."

"And Slytherin's banner?"

"Ah, now this I only figured out a few hours ago... I was originally worried, but it came to me, while having my morning bath. Their eyes, Severus. Green and silver."

"Of course..." Snape looked up from the brandy glass. "And flaming serpents?"

"That still puzzles me," said Dumbledore, thoughtfully. "Obviously, your Unbreakable Vow to protect Harry is in place, which could possibly be flaming serpents. I cannot see how that would tie Draco in."

"He is my godson," said Snape, but Dumbledore shook his head.

"Something more than that, Severus... I believe we have other developments, before we understand the prophecy in its entirety." Dumbledore settled behind his desk, refilled the brandy glass with a flick of his wand and sighed. "It seems much more of a challenge now, doesn't it?"

"Having Potter and Draco co-operate?"

"Yes... I do worry..."

"Draco didn't seem... particularly _happy_, at his initiation ceremony. He was shifting a lot. I doubt he was entirely willing." Snape looked up into Dumbledore's gentle blue eyes. "If I could coax the boy to confide in me, I could work out whether he is utterly committed to the Dark Lord. And if he is not, I could persuade him."

"Yes. That would be excellent, Severus, if you could achieve that for me."

"I will try."

"Keep me informed on whatever happens..."

As Snape stood up, took a last mouthful of brandy and headed towards the door, Dumbledore called him back.

"And Severus?"

"Yes?"

"Harry shall be turning sixteen very soon."

Snape frowned. "I know."

"Must I remind you of the law?"

Snape said nothing, and so Dumbledore reminded him of the law.

"Any Unbreakable Vow performed, concerning a child who is too young to understand that Vow, must be explained to the child either before or soon after their sixteenth birthday."

"Then tell Potter."

"And it must be explained by those who made that Vow," said Dumbledore, firmly.

"Then get Lupin to tell Potter. I want nothing to do with him. The little brat abhores me, and I'm quite content to reciprocate his feelings."

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore. "You still have a duty to him, Severus. It is even more imperative that you tell Harry soon... your particular Vow lost its bonder. It will be starting to deteriorate, and needs renewing."

"It isn't my fault that Nixie went blundering headfirst into an obvious trap," Snape snapped, and it was obvious that Dumbledore had touched a nerve. "Why should I be left with the stupid witch's mistakes?"

Dumbledore stood up, and crossed to the door, opening it for Snape. The dark-haired wizard seemed to understand. He moved through, and as he passed Dumbledore, the headmaster pressed the bottle of remaining brandy into Snape's hand.

"Drink away your sorrows, Severus. Will you be joining us for the staff picnic tomorrow?"

Snape shook his head. "No... I will be returning to Spinner's End tonight. The Dark Lord has placed Peter Pettigrew with me, so I may keep an eye on him..."

"On him, Severus, or he on you?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not particularly. Go and drink."

Snape left the office. As Dumbledore closed the door, everything began to rotate quickly. The change from one memory to the next was getting easier, and Harry felt only mild nausea this time. His mind was spinning far more than what was outside it. Part of him longed to sit down and think, and ask questions, and make sure he understood all this correctly... but part of him didn't want to even think about thinking, until he knew it all. He owed that much to Dumbledore.

A dark, stone-walled office appeared. Harry took one look at the pickled raccoon hanging upside down in a jar and realised that this was the office of Severus Snape, except it lay in boxes, half-packed. Snape himself was sitting in an armchair with clawed feet by the fire, massaging his temples, staring morosely into the flames.

"Only one night later," Lupin murmured in Harry's ear, and he nodded.

There was a knock on the door.

"Albus?" said Snape, looking up, and the door opened. Dumbledore came into the room. He was carrying a large white rabbit with a bow around its neck, and judging by the look on Snape's face, he had not been expecting Dumbledore to bring a friend.

"It's a birthday present for Poppy Pomfrey," the headmaster explained. He sat the rabbit down on a stack of boxes. "You asked me to come and see you, Severus. Do we have news?"

"Yes." Snape frowned quietly. "I'm... Albus, I'm not entirely sure how to put it."

"I often find that being optimistic about a situation can make the words flow with more ease," said Dumbledore, settling himself in an armchair by the fire. "Every cloud has a silvery lining, Severus."

Snape thought about this. "In that case, I doubt you will die."

"See? Now, if that isn't good news, then - "

"Although I am."

A very heavy, awkward silence followed this. Snape was looking into the flames as if he saw death there, staring out at him, and he was unable to look away.

"Perhaps you should tell me the full story, before we open another bottle of brandy," said Dumbledore, calmly.

"Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange came to see me."

"Oh?"

"About Draco. Narcissa has heard what the Dark Lord intends for him to do, and she's distressed. She wants no harm to come to him. She came to me, asking if I had heard, and naturally, I told her that I had. They questioned my loyalty to the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore looked up, fixing Snape with a careful gaze. "And?"

"I convinced them, Albus. They interrogated me for some time. I... I got used to creating the stories. Lying. I found myself settling into a role, of a Death Eater that would do anything to prove their loyalty. Yet... Albus, I've made a mistake. A huge mistake."

"What has happened, Severus?"

"Narcissa asked me to make an Unbreakable Vow."

Dumbledore nodded. "What have you promised to do?"

"It does not matter what I promised to do," said Snape, a little snappily, though the anger was clearly directed at himself rather than Dumbledore. "The fact remains that I cannot fulfill it. At the time, I thought there was a loophole I could exploit. I checked the magical legislation. I doubt that my loophole will ever be strong enough to protect me. Albus, I... I think that - "

"Severus... tell me the full story. There are things we can do."

"I think it better if you don't know. Truly, Albus. I hate myself enough."

"Severus."

Snape's face contorted for a moment, digging his fingers into his hair, and he hissed, "I promised that should Draco be unable to perform the task the Dark Lord has set for him, that I would do it."

Dumbledore said nothing. Snape went on.

"The loophole is that as long as Draco is alive, he is able to do what the Dark Lord has ordered. No matter how reluctant he is, or how unlikely it is, he would still be able to go through with it."

And with such a sudden display of violence that Harry jumped, Snape seized a book from the side of his chair and flung it across the room, with a snarl that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Three pickled animals crashed from their jars. Green slime oozed down the shelves, burning holes in the stone work, and Snape collapsed into his chair, covering his face.

Dumbledore, instead of being angry, looked almost thoughtful. He scraped his chair across the hearth rug to sit by Snape, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Severus... you are not going to die..." Dumbledore's withered fingers brushed back the man's greasy hair, off his face, and the old wizard looked him gently in the eye. "Do you think I would let you give up quite so easily?"

"I don't think that - ... I can't see any feasible way out of - ..."

"Shhh, Severus. Nobody, who has seen you live the life you have, would ever leave you to die quietly in a corner. Sacrifices will be made in this war, but not you."

Harry saw Dumbledore reach out with a thumb, as if rubbing a stain from Snape's cheek, but Harry couldn't see what stain it could be. He leant around. To his eternal surprise, and sending a knife-wave of guilt through him, he saw the candlelight glint from a single wet streak on Snape's face.

Shock seized Harry. All he could do was stare.

Dumbledore trailed a thumb quietly down what was probably the first tear Snape had released since childhood, studying the younger man's face with a gentle smile. "Sometimes, Severus, I don't know how you can stay standing... the respect and admiration I have for you is phenomenal. That will never change."

Snape whispered something, that neither Dumbledore nor Harry caught. Both moved a little closer.

"Sorry, Severus?

"Black and Potter," said Snape, reaching up to cover his face again, as if not being able to see the headmaster's face would make it easier. "What about Black and Potter? When they tried to... tried to kill me. You took ten points from Gryffindor. And I... I hated you, more than any man that day... because you thought me worth nothing more than ten points, and perhaps I'm not."

"Severus..." said Dumbledore quietly. He rubbed another tear from Snape's sallow face. "Severus, how long has this been burrowing into your soul?"

"Since I was sixteen years old."

"Then a very over-due apology," said Dumbledore. He held Snape's face in his hands, like a grandfather with his favourite grandson. "You are worth no amount of points to me, Severus. Your life, and what you have done for me, is worth more points than there are grains of sand on the beach. Stars in the sky. If I had known how badly that schoolboy prank affected you, I assure you, Sirius would have been punished - "

"And Potter!" spat Snape. He shuddered. "Potter was in on the joke, Albus, I know he was. He wanted me dead, so did Black, and now they will get what they want. And I will die trying to do what is best for Potter's vile little son."

"Severus," said Dumbledore firmly. "You will not die. Look at me, Severus. I want to hear nothing more about your mortality." His expression softened, and he brushed away another tear. "If James and Sirius knew how much you have done for me, and done for Harry all these years, then they would think very, very differently of you."

Snape hesitated. Perhaps he knew it was true. After a moment, a faint shudder passed across his shoulders and he returned to the subject that was burning him alive. "Albus, this situation is - ... there's no way out. It ends, here."

"Shhh... come now, don't make me curse a smile onto your face..." Dumbledore's face relaxed, and he said, "There... I haven't seen that smile since the first time you walked into the Great Hall. Now... here is what we will do. Say nothing until I'm finished, and do not try to protest or persuade or cajole or convince me. My mind is most entirely made up. Do you understand?"

Snape nodded. Dumbledore smiled, and continued.

"Excellent... when the time comes, I need you to do something for me. One last act of incredible bravery. I want you to fulfill your Vow. No, do not speak - let me finish. I wish for you to protect Draco and Harry, to bring them together and have them unite against Lord Voldemort. I will write a letter, or some other way of explaining all this to them... no doubt it will be a lot to explain. After you have fulfilled your Vow to complete Draco's mission for him, you must renounce Lord Voldemort."

"Yes," said Snape. "I will. Of course I will."

"Completely, Severus," said Dumbledore, fixing Snape with a gentle, serious look. "You _must_ turn your back on him, once and for all. Every single tie must be severed. Do you understand how important this is?"

"Yes, Headmaster..."

"Good. From that point onwards, Harry will be your new master, and you will be his. I have plans for Harry this year, which he will hopefully explain to you when the time is right. Following Harry's instructions, you must guide the two boys to do what is needed - to defeat Lord Voldemort. Will you promise me that, Severus?"

"I promise." Snape was shaking again, grasping at Dumbledore's hands. "Yes, I promise... a Vow?"

"No no," said Dumbledore, and his eyes twinkled merrily. "I think you have quite enough of those to be getting on with, Severus."

"Albus... thank you... I can't - "

"Shhh," said Dumbledore, with a smile. "I have known you for thirty years, and never once have you struck me as the type to creep and crawl. Your lips do not belong on my shoe. We will have time for gratitude in the morning, after you've had a mug of hot chocolate and a good night's sleep... and I have a birthday present to deliver... now, where has my rabbit gotten to?"

Harry glanced down. The rabbit in question was nestled on his feet, half-asleep, one furry white ear flopped over its face. He shuffled back a little as Dumbledore came over, gathering the rabbit gently into his arms.

As he stood up, he glanced into the corner. Harry froze. He was sure, utterly certain, that for a single second Dumbledore was looking at him. It was more powerful than in the office. He met Dumbledore's eyes, forgetting to breathe... and saw the headmaster smile, quietly.

"Good night then, Severus. Do take care."

Dumbledore left with his rabbit, as Snape scraped the hair out of his eyes, and the world leapt once more onto the merry-go-round of memories. Harry reached out to hold Lupin's wrist. Lupin put an arm around his shoulders, and as the shapes and colours continued to spin, leant down to speak in Harry's ear.

"This one might be upsetting. Turn away, if you want to."

The battlements of Hogwarts. Harry realised, a shade too late, what he was about to relive. Fenrir Greyback, Draco Malfoy and the other Death Eaters were here, and downstairs, there were screams and shouts and the blast of wand fire. Harry turned away. Lupin crouched, gathered him up and hid Harry's face against his shoulder. All Harry could do was listen.

A door burst open.

"We've got a problem, Snape. The boy doesn't seem able - "

"Severus..." Dumbledore's voice, soft, afraid.

Harry had to look. He had to know. That expression of hateful revulsion he had seen in the lines of Snape's face... he had to know. He turned, to stare up through the moonlight, at Snape's face. Time seemed to slow. This was Snape's memory - not the obstructed view Harry had been forced to endure.

And a new voice spoke, louder than the screams and the explosions, echoing softly. It was Dumbledore's voice.

"You know what you have to do, Severus... do not fail me. Do not disappoint me now."

Snape had frozen still. Although this moment had taken seconds before, mere flickers of time to turn Harry's world upside down, it had gone on for years in the mind of Severus Snape. Dumbledore's telepathy echoed around the battlements.

"Do it, Severus."

Snape was numb. Harry could see it in his eyes, eyes that Harry hadn't been able to see when he was hiding under Dumbledore's spell. As Malfoy was pushed out of the way he fell, and Harry caught sight of his white face - staring in horror at Snape, simultaneously pleading that he did and did not do it.

"Severus... please..." said Dumbledore, his voice shaking, and Snape raised his wand.

"Goodbye, Severus..." was the telepathic murmur in his head. "Look after Harry for me."

_"Avada kedavra!"_

The jet of light hit Dumbledore. Harry couldn't watch. As the Death Eaters and Malfoy looked on, Dumbledore's dying moments acted out like some terrible performance, Harry turned his eyes to Snape and saw the regret in his face, the terrible shock that it was done, it was over and he was alone now.

And then the mask fell back into place, his face hardening, the same old Death Eater raging to the surface.

"Out of here, quickly," he said. The Death Eaters turned and ran. Remus Lupin tucked Harry's head back onto his shoulder, burrowing his fingers in Harry's mop of hair, and Harry closed his eyes as the tower disappeared around them.

"Is it over yet?" Harry asked, not surprised at the break in his voice.

"One more," promised Remus. "Just one more... here, look..."

Harry raised his eyes, dreading what he would see.

The comfortable gloom of a dark, grimy tavern room surrounded him. Harry felt his heart slow once more, now he was away from the terror of Dumbledore's death, and he looked around shakily. The walls of the room were stained with smoke, and the carpet matted with stains, one that was red wine or blood - Harry knew which his money was on. What little furniture there was was old, and too weak to be used without fear of breaking it. The two grimy beds gave off a damp, musty odour that Harry could smell even across the room. There was an old wardrobe (that looked as if strips had been gouged out of it with a knife at some point) and a rickety bar stool, placed in the middle of the room.

At the moment, it was occupied by Severus Snape.

He looked tired, and so pale that Harry could have mistaken him for a walking corpse. Deep, dark circles around his eyes made him look as if he'd aged twenty years in a night. His bony frame was draped in the robes of a Death Eater, though he'd rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. Pulsing like a hot coal on his forearm was the Dark Mark. In one hand, he held a damp cloth, and for reasons unexplained he kept rubbing the fabric over the Dark Mark, as if soothing a wound.

For a few seconds, nothing was said as Snape daubed at his arm then checked over his shoulder. In the far bed, somebody was huddled under the blankets, which were drawn over their head. Only a sliver of platinum blonde hair was visible - Draco.

"Potter..." said Snape, and Harry looked around obediently, before remembering that it was only a memory. He relaxed. Snape wrung out the cloth, holding it over the Dark Mark, and continued in a weak voice that Harry had never heard him use before. "This is... going to be difficult, to say. To explain."

He hissed softly, tightening his grip on the cloth as if nursing a burn.

"I doubt that Dumbledore's plan of memories will work entirely," said Snape. "I had those doubts all along... as usual, he didn't listen. He has never listened. Damn Albus..."

Taking a shaky breath, he removed the cloth, unfolding it and turning it inside out.

"I never expected that he would expect me to take things this far. To do what he asked of me. Potter, this is not a plea for sympathy or understanding. Far from. Last night, I murdered Albus Dumbledore and cannot even get my own mind around it yet, so how I intend to convince you is a mystery to me."

Heavily, he sighed and flexed his fingers, the cords standing out in his wrist. He clenched his fist for a moment. On his forearm, the Dark Mark throbbed a soft fiery red, before fading once more into black. Harry had never been given such an unrestricted view of anybody's Dark Mark, let alone Snape's. Snape had always been viciously protective of it - ashamed, even.

Snape sighed, restless and agitated, raking a fistful of hair off his face to stare across the room. Harry could see the aching confusion in his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he felt a tiny pang of sympathy for the broken man he saw before him.

"This has all gone too far," Snape breathed. He shook his head. "Dumbledore thinks this can all be explained with memories... a bottle of ingredients from my own mind. He's suffering under the delusion that - ... rather, he was suffering... - that I can present you with a few carefully chosen memories, and expect you to proclaim my innocence eagerly to the world. To trust me, like he did."

He lowered his head.

"Wretched Potter." He curled his fist and pressed it agitatedly to his lips, his eyes searching the stained carpet, as if desperate for the answers to blossom in front of him like flowers. "The pressure that has been dropped onto my shoulders... and you _dare_ to call me coward. If, in that moment, I could have fixed my fingers around your wretched neck and squeezed until you were dead... I would have, Potter. You have no idea what I have to deal with at this moment in time."

Harry felt strong, uncomfortable guilt surging around his stomach as Snape stood up, snatching a flask from his pillow and unscrewing the lid. He splashed the potion inside onto the cloth, and clasped the sodden fabric to his forearm once more, his face working with pain and relief.

"Not only am I now solely responsible for Draco Malfoy, but Dumbledore has left me in charge of you as well. I cannot handle this. He cannot _expect_ me to handle this. Somehow, I have to guide Draco to London, with the Dark Lord, the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix snapping at my heels. Once there, I need to find Remus Lupin, explain to him the situation, arrange for him to bring you... and after that, the real difficulty begins. If, by some miracle of Merlin, you agree to go through the memories, I have to hope and pray that whatever Dumbledore chooses to show you is enough to convince you. If not..."

He hissed suddenly, and Harry jumped, having been enthralled in what Snape was saying. He watched as Snape wrung out the cloth, reapplied it to his arm and sighed, closing his eyes. The potion seemed to quell the Dark Mark's burn.

"If you do believe me... and Merlin, the chances are so slim that I will not blame you, if you turn your back and walk away. But if you do... what then? I will be responsible for the two most important lives in the entire wizarding world. The anchor guardian. Somehow, I need to..."

He sighed and closed his eyes, his fists clenching.

"Potter. I can't do this."

"You can," came from Harry's mouth, before he could stop himself, and he found a lump in his throat the size of an egg.

"There's impossible pressure on me... but do I have any choice?" Snape stared upwards, through the ceiling, as if begging the heavens to open and swallow him up. "All the trust you placed in me, Dumbledore... this is too much. Too far. Don't dare leave me like this."

Behind him, the sleeping Draco shifted and Snape turned to look at him, watching carefully, waiting. The boy remained asleep. Snape's shoulders seemed to relax as he turned back to Harry, and for a moment, their eyes met. That same feeling Harry had experienced with Dumbledore, that this was more than a memory, flittered through his mind before Snape looked away.

"Potter, you must believe me. If you don't, then I can do little more to convince you, and I can only hope that whatever nasty death awaits me is brief - whether at the Dark Lord's hand, the Ministry's, or yours. Perhaps death will be easier than co-operating in whatever ludicrous plan Dumbledore has cooked up for me."

Snape gave a huff of humourless, weak amusement.

"I quite envy the foolish old man. While I have to play sheepdog to you and Draco Malfoy, he's probably sitting on a cloud, drinking sherry with Black and enjoying a joke at my expense."

For some reason, the image made Harry's lips quirk in a smile. He hid it quickly, annoyed at himself but unable to deny he liked that thought - Dumbledore and Sirius, together, wherever they were.

Snape sighed, heavily, and dabbed at the Dark Mark burnt into his arm. "The point of the matter is, Potter... Dumbledore seemed to think that you need me, more than you needed him. Before you scoff, know that I think it ludicrous as well. Dumbledore could deal with this amount of pressure. I cannot. Yet... I have come to realise something. Only in recent hours."

Harry leant closer. Snape looked up, meeting Harry's eyes, staring into him rather than through him, and Harry shivered.

"I am now the most wanted man in the wizarding world," said Snape quietly. "Albus Dumbledore was the only one who believed me innocent, who trusted me entirely. Without him to vouch for me, the Ministry will believe I am nothing less than a cold-blooded murderer. Perhaps it's what I am. Either way, I feel... reliant upon you, as you are on me. Turn away, if you wish. If I could walk away from this situation myself, I most certainly would, but unfortunately, I can't. You can, Potter. You have a choice. If you have a brain in your head, tell Lupin to take you home and alert the Order to where I am staying."

He paused, then carried on, quietly.

"Or if you are the brave, foolish, stupid young clone of your father that I have always believed you to be, trust me and understand what it is I have so much trouble in saying... I need you, Potter. I hazard to say that you need me. Albus Dumbledore was willing to risk everything on the two of us co-operating, and it will be hard. I doubt I can cope. I am... willing to try though, if you are. Dumbledore placed a huge amount of trust in me. I think the least I can do, to try and counter what I've done, what I've committed... is to trust him as well, when he says that I need you."

Quietly, he drew his wand from up his sleeve and took a bottle from his pocket, filled with silvery memories. He swirled it gently.

Raising the tip of the wand to his temple, he sighed, and Harry felt invisible forces jerk him backwards, upwards, away from this dark tavern room and Snape's empty eyes. Time and space danced around him in a whirlwind. After what felt like an eternity of spinning through colour, he hit the ground again, and found himself on his hands and knees, crouched upon the cold hard cement floor of a hotel basement.

For long seconds, he could do nothing but breathe, too exhausted for thought. It was after about a minute that he realised there was a hand on each of his shoulders. The right he recognised as Lupin's fatherly grip, and he could see the older wizard out of the corner of his eye.

At his left, he didn't need to look round to know who it was.


	5. Renewal

* * *

**Crimson Emeralds  
**_**by The Velvet Ghost**_

* * *

Chapter Five - Renewal

* * *

Harry could think of nothing in this moment. His brain, when he needed it most, had deserted him and left him to struggle on alone. He thought he could probably buckle under the weight of everything he had seen. All he could feel was the cold concrete under his palms, the steady beat of his heart, and the hand gripping gently at his shoulder.

Lifting his eyes silently from the pensieve, he saw a boy sitting opposite him, cross-legged and white in the face. At first, he thought this was a stranger, before the boy brushed a lock of jet-black hair off his face and Harry met the unmistakable gaze of Draco Malfoy. It was a very shocked, drained Draco Malfoy, who looked just how Harry felt.

"You dyed your hair," said Harry, unable to think of anything else.

"Thanks for noticing," mumbled Draco.

They lapsed into silence. Harry drew his knees to his chest, holding them there carefully, wondering how long it would be before somebody spoke and tried to persuade him. As the moments passed, he became uncomfortably aware that three pairs of eyes were watching him, waiting for him to speak, to make a decision that he didn't really want to make. Snape was right - it had gone too far. This was too much pressure.

After years of knowing it without accepting it, Harry finally realised that every life in the wizarding world rested on his shoulders. Snape had said he could walk away, but could he? What _were_ the other options?

He had never really understood why the Sorting Hat placed him in Gryffindor, and had never gotten to grips with Dumbledore's message of how his choices made him who he was. Was this what it meant? He had chosen to be brave once. It made him a Gryffindor. Harry's parents were Gryffindors, and they'd made the bravest decision of all - to die for a child.

It was time, after seven years, to make that choice for Gryffindor.

Slowly, he turned to look up into Snape's eyes, those empty black tunnels that had hated him for so long now. They were still hollow, and still black, but there was something more there - was it need? Would Harry ever understand Snape enough to know what it was?

"I..." he said, and faltered away. He didn't know what to say, or even what he wanted to say. At last, the words came. "I don't know if I can handle all this..."

"Even after sixteen years of knowing it, neither do I," said Snape quietly.

Harry shifted, and turned to kneel at the older wizard's feet, looking up at him. "Look... Snape... I don't know if I have a choice - "

"You do," said Snape. "You might not realise it..." Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the concrete floor in front of Harry. "But you do have some degree of choice. As far as the first prophecy was concerned, which I did hear... I'm not sure if Albus ever told you - "

"He did," said Harry quietly. "And I hate you for it."

Snape turned his eyes away for a moment, taking the blow with outstanding grace. "Either way, Potter. As far as the first prophecy was concerned, I doubt you have a choice. The second prophecy is little more than an extension of the first... if you wish to destroy the Dark Lord - "

"Don't call him that!" bristled Draco angrily.

Harry saw Snape's face contort. He seemed to simmer for a moment, like a potion just about to boil, before he snapped. Something deep inside the Snape resolve broke.

"_Voldemort_!" he roared, and the cry rushed to each stony corner, echoing back at him over and over again, haunting and miserable and mocking. "Voldemort! Shall we be more personal? _Tom Riddle_, Potter, if you want to destroy Tom Riddle, then Draco will have to stop bothering me about Voldemort or I shall drain _every_ drop of vampiric blood from his body and sell it to the nearest apothecary."

Draco's face worked, and he hissed, "I'm one-eighth vampire. _One-eighth_."

"Severus," said Remus quietly from behind Harry, as Snape opened his mouth to tear into Draco once more.

Snape seemed quelled. He turned away, his anger retreating back inside its emotional bottle, and he looked fixedly into Harry's eyes. "If you want to destroy Voldemort, Potter, you will have to work with Draco. He has done nothing wrong, legally, and if the Ministry wish to charge him with being a Death Eater, he has agreed with me that he will sell them as much information on Voldemort as he knows."

Draco gave the tiniest of nods.

Snape continued, looking calm once more. "However, the prophecy gives no mention of me. You have a choice as to whether you want my assistance."

"What a choice," said Harry quietly, and pressed his chin to one knee. He thought for a moment. "Why would I not want your help? Dumbledore said you can help me... and I think I need as much help as I need, really."

"Then you believe it all?" said Snape. He watched Harry closely, as the younger wizard thought, running over everything he had just seen. It was believable - it explained everything, perfectly, and no explanation could fit so well than the real one. The only reason he would not believe it was because of Snape.

As something occurred to Harry, he looked up into Snape's eyes, and said, quite out of the blue, "I'm so much better than you."

Snape looked momentarily surprised. Before he could speak, Harry continued.

"You always hated me," said Harry. "And to be fair, I always hated you. I think you're pathetic, but now I know you've got a reason to be pathetic, I'm going to forgive you. I'm going to stop hating you. That makes me better than you because not only did you never forgive my father, but you actually carried on hating him, but through me."

After this revelation, nobody said anything for a moment or two. Snape was wearing a twisted expression, that suggested he knew arguing would only prove Harry's point more. His face slackened, reluctantly.

"Touché, Potter."

"But," said Harry firmly. "I'm not going to forgive you if you keep on at me with the 'Potter' stuff. And you need me. Don't you forget that. If I want, I could tell the Ministry who it was that killed Albus Dumbledore, then that would be the end of you. Right?"

Snape said nothing. Harry held the gaze of those black eyes.

"And yes... I believe it all. The only reason I believe it is because of Dumbledore, and everything he's done to protect me. If he trusted you, then I'll trust you as well. I owe him that."

Remus put a hand on Harry's arm. Harry turned to look at him, and Remus gave him a kind, reassuring expression. "You've made the right decision... things might be hard, but Severus and I are here for you. Both of you," he added, looking over at Draco. "I think that there are apologies due."

Draco's face tightened in anger. "What! How dare you - "

"In all directions," said Remus, calmly. "Harry, Draco... shake hands, please. Whatever we have to do is going to be a lot easier if we've forgiven all our past problems."

Harry couldn't fault that logic. He looked into Draco's pale eyes, seeing there the same reluctance he felt himself. Only the thought of Albus Dumbledore's sacrifice could make Harry forgive quite so much. He crawled over to Draco, offering a hand. The pale boy's shoulders hunched.

"I want to know what I'm agreeing to," he said.

"Co-operation," said Snape. "Shake Potter's hand, or I shall make you."

Draco took Harry's hand, uncomfortably. Harry gripped his fingers. They shook, met eyes, and Draco mumbled. "Sorry."

"Sorry," agreed Harry.

"Good," said Remus, quietly. "Now... there's something we need to do, Harry. Come here... Draco, you'll have a part in this. Do you have your wand with you?"

Draco drew it out of his sleeve. "Yes, why?"

"We have a Vow to replenish," said Remus. He reached out for Harry's hand. Their fingers linked together, and Harry turned to face Remus, settling himself. "There's not just me, Harry..." said Lupin with a smile.

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Snape was watching them, an unsure expression on his face, and Harry didn't really blame the older wizard for being wary about Unbreakable Vows. For a moment, jet black met emerald green and they stared at each other, as if for the first time.

"Come on," muttered Harry. He held out a hand to Snape. "You can't back out now. Not after all that."

Snape's lip quirked in a humourless, weak smile. "Mm, I suppose not." He crawled across the floor, grasped Harry's hand and moved to one side, so that Draco could worm in between them.

"Okay, so what do I do? Just hold the wand?"

Snape and Lupin drew their hands together, so that all three wizard's hands met in the centre, linked over and under each other in a ball of fist and finger. Snape glanced at Draco. "Place the tip of your wand on our hands, and stay still."

Draco leant over, and prodded Snape in the back of the palm. "There."

Snape bit his tongue. No doubt Draco would be rebuked at the first possible opportunity. Harry glanced from Remus to Snape, waiting for something to happen. Remus was apparently waiting as well. After a moment, he turned to look at Snape, one eyebrow raised, "Well?"

"Well what?" snapped Snape. Seeing the look on Remus's face, he said, "I am _not_ starting. There is no possible way that I will be the anchor of yet another Vow."

"Yes, there is, Severus. Say it."

"_No_, Lupin."

"Severus."

Snape's face worked. "Lupin, if you - "

Remus's eyes flashed, warningly, and he said, "Severus, Harry has just been asked to believe you are innocent, with only a bottle of memories as proof. If I were you, I'd _leap_ at the chance to give him some better, more reliable evidence."

For a moment, they glowered into each other's eyes, before Snape was forced to admit defeat.

His grip tightened quite painfully on Harry's hand. "Very well," he snapped. He shifted, and looked into Harry's eyes darkly. "Potter, I repeat my Vow to do everything in my power to protect you from all harm, as long as I am able to. I also repeat my Vow to renounce Lord Voldemort... completely and utterly."

Draco jumped, giving a noise of surprise as three white-hot wires of flames burst suddenly into sight around the locked fists, binding them more tightly. Harry felt the fire licking gently at his palm, almost like a faithful pet.

"Harry," said Remus kindly, looking a lot happier than Snape had. "I repeat my Vow to keep you safe from harm, as long as I'm able to."

Another three ropes of flames flared into sight around their entwined fists, burning brightly in the darkness of the basement, and Harry looked into the two pairs of eyes before him. Remus gave him an encouraging smile. As Harry faced Snape, he remembered the despair he had seen so recently in the other wizard's face, or how Albus Dumbledore had rubbed tears off his face in his darkest hour. Snape knew what he was thinking. He looked away for a moment, uncomfortably, and Harry gripped his hand.

"Nice to know you're human," he said, as the fiery serpents burnt slowly away, their amber glow fading as the flames seemed to sink into their hands.

"Hmm," said Snape, with a glance into Harry's eyes. "For you, perhaps."

With a last flicker of orange and gold, the flames died away. Harry felt warmth surge through his veins, as if his blood had been heated suddenly by a ray of sunlight. Their hands gradually untangled, and Draco sat back on the stone floor, pocketing his wand.

"Are we done in this basement?" he said irritably. "I'm hungry and I have a headache."

Lupin put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll take Draco up to the hotel room and find him something to eat, Severus."

"I can - " Snape began, but Lupin cut across him gently.

"You can't."

Harry understood, and judging by the expression on Snape's face, so did he. Lupin and Draco walked away across the basement, and as the clunk of the elevator lifted them out of sight, Harry looked up into Snape's face. The older wizard gave him a serious, quiet expression.

"We have dark times ahead of us," he said. As if tasting a foreign food, he added, "Harry."

Harry shrugged. "Things can only get better... it's not like defeating Voldemort would be a dance through the daisies." He hesitated. "What do I have to call you now? You're not my professor anymore."

"Snape will do."

"Not Severus?"

Snape's eyes flashed. "Did nobody ever warn you about pushing your luck?"

"Not really," said Harry. He brought his knees casually to his chest, resting his chin on them, and peered at Snape, studying his face. "I'm sorry I called you a coward. I think it's... brave, what you've done. For Dumbledore, I mean... and for me."

"Hmm." Snape reached up, burying a hand into his new short hair. "Appreciation from a Potter. A rare occurrence. If you expect some kind of emotional confession that I have always admired you, I'm afraid to disappoint you."

Harry smiled. "It's alright. I don't need one."

Snape's liquid black eyes looked up at him, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I don't need one," said Harry. He stood up. "I already got you to say that you need me. I think that's enough for one day. Come on, I'm hungry as well... does this protection of me extend to buying food?"

As Snape stood wearily, picked up the pensieve and brushed down his clothes, he sighed. "I suppose so. If you really are truly and utterly starving."

They walked in silence towards the lift doors, picking their way through the rubble of boxes and laundry bags. The doors slid open. Gladly, Harry walked into the welcoming light, watching as Severus came to stand by his side and pressed the button for the upper floors.

As they rose out of the basement, Harry could imagine a cloud somewhere far away. Sirius kicked off his boots, refilled Albus Dumbledore's sherry glass and asked if he was up for another game of cards.

"What are you smirking at?" said Snape, looking sideways at Harry, a frown on his face.

Harry grinned. "Nothing."

_The End_

* * *

**_Author's Notes_**

For those of you who were expecting a novel-length piece, my apologies, but Crimson Emeralds is going to remain as a 'mini-story' for at least a little while. The chances are that I'll itch to write some more, and it will evolve into another novel-length piece, but until then, this is it. For now, this story was simply me giving one of the possible explanations for what Severus did at the end of HBP, and why Dumbledore trusted him quite so much.

I'd like to thank Snidgey, who beta-read the first three chapters of this, and I'd like to congratulate myself on only 2,943 mistakes in the two chapters that I beta-read. I'm getting better at this! Thanks also go to JK Rowling, for posing such a delicious challenge with the end of HBP; to Kate, for keeping my creative energy flowing; to Debra Awty, who I will miss immensely; and finally to Whit,for her constant and never-ceasing enthusiasm for pretty much everything.

As always, e-mails and reviews are _entirely _welcome. I read every single review, and reply to every e-mail, no matter how short or long,so don't be afraid to get in touch.

_Sectumsempra!_


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